


Enemy Base Secure, Sir

by wisterinite



Series: Master of Time [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Eddisode References In General, Gen, Mirror-Mirror Episode References, The End Episode References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisterinite/pseuds/wisterinite
Summary: When the Red Army discovers (another) link to a parallel world, they devise a plot to recover some vital blueprints....If only Tord would stop getting awkwardly distracted by all the FEMALES along the way. Also, it doesn't help that they're all kind of his old friends, either.





	1. The Pillow

“Enemy base secure, Sir,” a lieutenant chimed in as Tord crouched over the remains of an old book shelf. They’d ransacked and burned most of the interior of the mansion in the battle, leaving only a few text documents in tact. They didn’t necessarily need the documents, but Tord prefered their more deeply rooted infiltrations to be thoroughly searched.

“Very good,” he said, “And the prisoners?”

“The girls have all been recovered and are being taken care of. We’re,” he stumbled over his next words, “still looking for the mirror that brought them here,” he finally said, having to choke out the strange notion. It did seem impossible that such a phenomena as a magic mirror that could teleport beings from one dimension to another, Tord thought. It must be that he was desensitized from all of the strange occurrences that had happened in his life, to be so unaffected by it.

“Well, continue on then,” he said, just as another figure came running up to them.

“Sir!” he yelled, then stopped to salute. “We found the mirror!”

Tord’s eyes widened, pleased, and stood up fully. When he’d listened to the blubbering ranting of the political pig earlier, he’d only been able to take part of his foolery seriously with how he was a key player in a human trafficking ring. Now though, this tall tale was beginning to materialize.

“Take me to it,” he breathed, a delighted grin overtaking his features before he could school himself.

As the trio passed, a few not-worse-for-wear soldiers saluted them, emanating with victory. This capture was only a step away from fully taking down a government sanction, so their excitement was quite understandable. The politician/CEO was the one that was holding most of the money that was being passed unabashedly to the government heads, and without his influence, it would make it much easier to cripple the government from resurrecting. The rescue of the sex slaves had been an unfortunate, yet additional discovery, which only added to the moral of the troops after they’d heroically stepped in between them and the shipment yard coming to take them. It was a good day for the Red Army, and it seemed to only be getting better.

One soldier whom he recognized dearly, Patryk, was chatting to another soldier as they surrounded the trinket they’d found. He walked directly up to him, eager to hear of their find.

“Red Leader,” Patryk addressed, standing a bit straighter, causing his surrounding comrades to do the same.

They stepped aside for Tord, so he could fully gaze at the reflective surface of the mirror. Looking at it curiously, he kept himself at a wary distance until he could determine how it worked. It seemed common enough in appearance, albeit expensive looking with it’s regal exterior framing the glass. He could see himself in it fine, from his eyepatch to his boots.

“We went ahead and tested it,” Patryk announced, pulling his leader’s gaze from the mirror. “It really is a portal to another dimension. And not only that though,” he snapped his gaze to the mirror, pausing. As if sensing his hesitation, the mirror shimmered in response.

It’s shimmer turned into ripples as it bended around the arm now sticking out of its surface. Tord’s hand itched for the gun at his waist, but held it behind his back patiently as Patryk seemed to have expected whatever was happening. Next a boot emerged, then a face: It was Paul. Excitement now bubbled up in Tord’s stomach renewed, as the circle around him widened to allow space for perhaps another person. He stood his ground as the next face that emerged was closely resembling to that of the former. Finally they made way for another, one that had Tord’s breath caught in his throat, and his attention was fully drawn to her and her alone.

It was him-or, herself. There was no mistake of it. From the wide-eyed, gleam of her eye that Tord knew was calculating and assessing the situation she was in, the flash of teeth with a smile that only fully reached one cheek, and the touch he felt in his deep in his gut as his gaze met that of his parallel.

He was positively certain that this was his double. And he was positively _certain_ that he’d have to be on his guard.

“Hello,” she greeted, giving Tord a once over, “-me.” She singled him out, seeming to size him up.

“Hello..” He returned with a hesitant greeting, before arming himself with a challenging stare of his own. She wasn’t the only thing behind that mirror, and he needed information now. So, turning his gaze boredly at his pilots, he raised a brow expectantly at them.

“The world basically looks the same as here on the other side,” Paul responded, before the female version of himself could. “Just, ‘different’ people,” he grunted. The term ‘different’ was a loose term for this situation in Tord’s opinion, but it was fitting.

Tord made an approving noise, before saying, “well, who knew.” He gestured to the two persons from another world with a relaxed front, letting his surrounding soldiers relax a bit as well. They needn’t worry about this problem, since it should automatically be his, with what the situation was.

“You,” Tord’s counterpart spoke, “seem to be well equipped for a mission, that looks to be similar to my own.” She, too, put on a relaxed front, even going as far as to pull out an unlit cigar from her pocket.

Tord didn’t have to look to his comrade for confirmation, just answering rhetorically, “Yes.” He waited for her to go on.

“I would go as far as to say that our situations are quite similar. Same friends, yes?” She points to her face, more specifically her eye patch. Something that marked his own features and brought back not the most pleasant memories of his last encounter with his friends.

“Same ones,” he agreed, “Perhaps it is, that you are suggesting...” he trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks. It must be a strange sight, for his soldiers, to witness their leader’s mind working together as so with another, he mused.

“...a team-up, of sorts,” she finished. “Surely the next step of your operations needs a strong force to hit its next target, am I correct?”

“So you are saying you’ll help me…?”

“Retrieve the blueprints that you are sorely missing for the rest of the 7.5 Mechanoid? Yes.” She smiled, pleased. “-Now this isn’t a one sided agreement. I do not know how much your Mechanoid differs from mine, so if you wish to have your blueprints recovered, you must retrieve mine.”

“Deal.” He didn't need time to think this over. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, and as much as he didn’t trust his counterpart to save his life, he was willing to bet her integrity to follow through to get what she wanted. As long as he put in a few fail safes to fall back on, he could deal with her trickiness.

She smiled over a newly-lit cigar before paying heed to her comrade. This seemed to jolt something through her senses, as she sharply regarded him again. “Red Leader.”

“..Yes?” It was awkward, the way she addressed him. His response seemed to confirm something for her, because her face softened a tad as she squared up to him.

“Let us discuss these plans further,” Somewhere more private, was silently added. Tord nodded, as it was beginning to get to the finer details of things anyway.

“I agree. Comrades,” he addressed his troops in a louder voice. Troops began to quiet down from whatever they were doing and gather around him, although many of their eyes were trained on the new arrivals. “We had a great battle today. For those who have gotten injured on this fight, their wounds are a badge of victory for the lives lost to the filthy overworld. You have rescued innocents, as well as helped preserve their freedoms today. Today, we are another step closer to our freedom.” Cheers and voices of agreement rise. “You have fought well. Everyone, pack for home. You three,” he addressed a certain few, “Make sure that girls are well taken care of and bring them back on Carrier 4. You two,” he pointed out to a couple medics, “make sure that the wounded are all accounted for. The rest of you, carry on. And prepare for a feast tonight!” More jovial cheers followed that statement, and he chuckled in comradery.

“Come, come,” he waved to the group tending to the mirror.

There was much to discuss after all.

 

\--

 

The mirror was carefully set down in their conference room. It was a private section of the first carrier, now holding two occupants. As interesting as this situation was, Tord needed to send his Paul and Patryk to help oversee the troops, while his counterpart sent her ‘Paul’ away through the mirror to do the same. It was a large act of trust, to allow herself to remain unguarded in this strange world, but if her hovering close to the mirror was any indicator, it wasn’t something completely given.

Tord fell back on his desk chair, slumping down lazily and leaning against the armrest.  Being far more on edge and therefore, less patient, his counterpart was the first to speak.

“So your name?” It wasn’t a trivial question, as that had been weighing on Tord’s mind as well. The way she hesitated calling him ‘Red Leader’ and the questions of similarities between their two worlds were president. Would she be ‘Tordi?’

“Tord,” he relinquished, after a heavy beat.“You?”

“Tori.” Tord covered up the snort that came out of him at how close he’d been. If she noticed, she didn’t comment on it.

Tord hoped that if ‘Tori’ was anything similar to him, that she would realize that this was the first stone cast towards trust- if she had given her real name in the first place. If he was traveling to her world, which he felt was they were approaching soon, he could always look it up to confirm anything she told him.

As long as he didn’t show any signs of weakness, she probably wouldn’t feel the need to betray him too much. After all, if he had the choice, he wouldn’t be negotiating with her at all, maybe instead lock her up until he’d gotten what he needed from her world. But, alas, she made a fair point earlier.

What were the dissimilarities between their worlds? He could admit that he had been contemplating on how to get back his blueprints from his friend’s houses when they were, for lack of a better term, _less than_ friends now. Were their worlds complete parallels of one another, or were they simply opposites? They were already opposite sexes, so…

There was a moment of silence, where the two mulled over what they needed to know from eachother.

“So you know what we need to do,” she stated, once again like a question for confirmation.

“Yes. You need to infiltrate my old friends’ places to search for the blueprints.” Tord stated.

“And you also. I believe to have hidden it among one of their personal belongings, something that they were so attached to that they could never part with it.”

“As did I.” It seemed like they were on the same page, once again. It was slightly freakish, actually, as Tord never could relate to someone as seamlessly as this _ever_. Sure, he could agree with someone frequently, be it over a concept like politics or even tastes like bacon, but the thought-following-thing was weird. And interesting, but her nervousness was starting to get to him, making it less so.

“Would you like to sit down?” He forced out. It was hard enough having to talk to another him, but to constantly be on edge around her was another.

“Forgive me if I don’t, but I feel as if we should move this along,” she said. Wow, even she didn’t want to stick around with him. And she was him. Tord grimaced deprecatingly, and she continued. “I don’t think I need to sugarcoat this when I say that we are pressed for time, and should already be on the move to find those blueprints. What we have constructed back at home is insufficient to match that of my earlier design, and I’d rather start boarding a jet to get to England right away if we could.”

That was pretty clear-cut and dry, and Tord found himself, once again, awkwardly agreeing. “Fine then. How should we do this then…?” He looked past her to the mirror which he’d alluded to.

She shrugged. “If you want, we could each send a guy in first to make sure we don’t backstab eachother. But,” she said, “I don’t see where either of us would gain from that, since we both want the blueprints from the other world.”

“Unless,” Tord spoke, “The other would immediately follow and try to get the other to do their bidding.” She barked a laugh at that.

“If I wanted someone else to do it, I’d send one of my men,” Tori said. “But no. I want it to be me. It needs to be me, because it’s what they deserve.” Tord knew what, and who, she meant, sincerely. His friends didn’t deserve to be subjected to shadowy attacks that weren’t directly from him, because that would mean he’d lost his conviction to carry out his mission. If his mission was for the sake humanity, to overthrow the bane that is capitalism and its corrupt system, he’d _have_ to keep his. Even if he disguised all of his words and made them seem as innocent as a flower before stabbing them in the back, at least he could still have that, in a sick sort of way.

“Fine. What should be our time-frame?”

“A week. Any more than that, and the plan is lost.”

“Agreed. And if we need to contact one another..?”

“Do it through Pauline or Patrycia.” Tord filed that information away.

“And you through Paul and Patryk,” he added. She nodded.

With that decided, Tori had finally lost her hostility, and this time she smiled at him more genuinely. He shot a small smile back, unsure where to proceed now. Should he just step through the mirror? Or, should he take the discouraged suggestion as a warning of what was to come once he stepped through the mirror?

He wouldn’t be the Red Leader if he didn’t take any risks though. So, instead, he turned his shy smile into that of predatory determination, ready to take on anything that lay through that portal, and approached her and the mirror. She didn’t move aside as he stood about two inches above eye level to her, but breached the small distance between them with a hand. He took it.

Their twin expressions gave eachother one last confirmation that they were, still and finally, together on this.

 

\--

 

Tord hadn’t quite decided what he’d find once he’d gotten through the portal.

When he first stepped through, he thought he’d find maybe an eery silence, just before something would jump out at him. Or, maybe they’d still be out in the battlefield because they hadn’t yet gotten the orders to move out.

Instead, he just got some boring, normal. They were on the ship, within some sort of office that looked to be slightly different than his own. It wasn’t eerily quiet, as he could hear just outside the door soldiers milling about and boxes and carts of presumably weapons and medical supplies being wheeled back to their store rooms. As he got to look around the room, basically the same stuff he’d kept in his room was found and hardly anything new. Sure, the pillow he kept under the desk was different, and the pictures hung on the walls were varied, but even the secret compartments he installed in the room had the same general dark secrets inside. It was boring.

But comforting. At least he could rest easy that he’d put his trust into someone relatively  accountable. Plus, now that he was alone, he could probably nap for a bit…

...If female Paul and Patryk hadn’t busted in just as he was laying his head down on the pillow.

“Sir!” They shouted with urgency, enough so that Tord decided to lift his head.

“Urrh, what is it?” he grumbled. “Can’t you see I’m busy.” Something nice must have been written on his sleep-deprived face, because Pauline and Patrycia seemed to unwind at the sight.

“Just making sure if you really...switched. Or not.” Patrycia explained.

That’s why they busted in? Tord was already starting to drift off to sleep. Maybe it was because he trusted them more than he did himself that he could already lower his guard in front of them, or maybe it was simply because he was sick of hearing his thoughts, aloud or in his head. But for whatever reason, he figured since there was no emergency, he could let his head hit the pillow again.

…

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've decided to add really vague titles to these chapters, shh). The Archive's pretty barren of Eddsworld fics, in my opinion, so here's my contribution! Enjoy! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. ;)


	2. The Sweaty Arm

There were no windows to allow sunlight to stream in, but rather he woke up on his own accord at some point. Propping his elbows on top of the pillow, he checked a random device to find that about 3 hours had went by after he passed out. Did that mean he missed their celebratory dinner? Tord yawned and ran a hand through his mussed-up hair, waking up a bit more at the prospect of having to deal with people and life in general. He should probably try and get a hold of one of his associates to--.

Then he remembered, wait, these are  _ her  _ associates. He conversed fine with his pilots the few hours beforehand, but that wouldn’t mean that the rest of the soldiers would respond well to a new Red Leader addressing them. He picked at one of the two red lines running down his right cheek, a nervous tendency that he’d only been caught doing once and had been ill advised of doing it, realizing that he’d probably have to track down one of the two of them first. If he was to gather authority in this facility, it would most likely come from them, as Tori’s most trusted officers and therefore next in command. He put his hand down, and sighed.

He had a vague impression of what they looked like and was almost positive that he’d be able to recognize their faces. Once he’d seen them, of course, as he walked out of the office and into some hallways.

As he exited, he received an apprehensive salute from the person guarding his door. The hallways were anything but abandoned, and this awkward saluting trend continued on for a second group, until he mustered up an admonishing glare at the next ones. This seemed to straighten them up quick, Tord was pleased to find. The technique worked for yet another group, and got Tord thinking that, hey, maybe he wasn’t that in need of finding Pauline and Patryk-..Patr-...Patricia! Yes, that he didn’t need those two to pass the mantle to him after all.

Still, the formality would be nice, and he really did want to know how long it’d be until they’d arrive in England.

The search continued until he began to pass the training room and heard a commotion inside. Curious, he popped his head inside the doorway, only for a split second before he was hit by a wall of sound.

Cheers echoed in the room, as two people in the center of a mat wrestled. The moves were clumsy, but looked powerful, as the one female got the other in a lock that--.

Tord began to be mesmerized by the sight before him. On his way here, a lot of the people that he’d saluted had been female officers, with a minority amount of men in the lot. Right about now, he felt that his troops were sorely missing out on something special, with this gender specific demographic.

He wiped a bit of drool from his mouth, just before he noticed he was being watched. The girl in the center of the ring that had emerged victoriously was looking right at him, apparently startled by his appearance. Perhaps his being there had only been rumors, after all. Until now, that is.

He smirked back at her, flustering her into looking back down at the mat and her opponent below her. It wasn’t long after that, that someone nearby yelled, “Red Leader!” that all attention was drawn to him.

“Hello, hello,” he greeted them, “Don’t mind me.” He waved at them to continue, to which they responded with the opposite. A few of even them gathered closer towards him. Tord could feel all of the eyes in the room scrutinizing him, and no one had yet to speak to him, only a few whispers were heard from the back of the suddenly large room.

Apparently his vague annoyance at this was visible, because one of them said, “Sorry, Sir, it’s just...” they then trailed off. It felt as though they didn’t actually know how to finish their sentence. Tord took pity on them.

“No, I am not your commander,” he sighed, his admittance grabbing even the persons at the back of the rooms’ attention. “But I am her and she is me. As, strange as that sounds,” he added. Closing his eyes in thought, he figured he might as well give part of the shpeel he was planning on addressing the troops with later. There was quite of few of them and they were paying attention, anyways.

“I am a guest here, so treat me as you must. I won’t actively be ordering you to do things at the moment. I’m going on a separate mission soon, so it will not matter except for the meantime. So,” he finished, simply with, “as you are.” It was a shorter and lamer speech than what he’d originally planned, but it left him the opportunity to stick around and see what their reactions would be, at the very least.

“Sir!!” The rookie fighter, the one whom he’d been oogling at just a minute ago, waved frantically to him. He blinked a couple times, dumbfounded by this sudden display of enthusiasm as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She did look familiar, somehow…

“Sir, thank you so much again,” she said with a stuttering pause, “for saving us, before.” She looked as though she wanted to grab his hands and fall on her knees before him, with how jittery she was behaving. It made him uncomfortable, and he gestured at her placatingly.

“Think of it as nothing,” he said, making her jaw drop. He chuckled, and went on, “We just happened to be at the right place at the time. Eh, but,” he steamrolled over her obvious wanting to go on to thank him, “what are you doing here now?” He didn’t mean to make it sound like an accusation of some kind, but she blushed all the same. Ah, well..

“I-We,” she gestured to a couple of other girls that were standing on the sidelines of the mat, “were so grateful to you, for what you did, and,” she held eye contact with them, her face slowly growing more confident, “we just want to be able to repay that kindness. Not necessarily  _ to  _ you but in honor of what you did. We want to help other people, and defend their freedoms.”

“For the Red Army,” she concluded, beaming. Tord felt his own face stretching into a grin, the room fading away from what had felt like strangers before to the comradery of relating in the cause.

“For the cause,” he returned, and she saluted back. Around the room, echoes of that statement went around.

It was fascinating, how he had went from feeling like a stranger in his own territory to quickly gaining a foothold in it. They were all bonded by their beliefs, after all, one way or another, and were all reaching towards one common goal. It was only natural that he got along with these people so quickly.

It was a large contrast to how he’d first gotten along with the people he grew up with, back in his school days. It was a miracle that he’d found such close friends at all afterwards, even being able to stand rooming with them until he’d gained his ambition to reach further than the small apartment they lived in.

Maybe it was them that helped inspire him to now, with his now nearly instinctual drive to keep his hopes and dreams alive. But only a little bit, though, not so much that he  _ owed  _ them anything beyond that acknowledgement. No, no, no, his gift to them would be the utopia that would one day come, from the Red Army’s hardships, and only then would they be repaid.

While the moment still lingered, Tord spoke, “so, what have you all been up to in here?” All of the soldiers began to talk excitedly.

They shared with him their ‘initiation’ mock-battle, where they demonstrated to the rookies first hand on some of their basic battle techniques. It appeared that the girl fighting before had given them a surprise when she’d already demonstrated good techniques for defending herself, going as far as to be able to pin down another soldier. Although the latter claimed they’d been going easy on her, Tord was impressed with how she fared against one of his own so easily, and wished to see another match.

Which lead to him being pulled onto the mat after a short acceptance of their suggestion that he see for himself. The room erupted with cheers, jeers, and chatter to one another at this turn of events. This was a golden opportunity for him, he realized, as he shed his coat.

This way, after he’d won, or even lost, he’d be able to prove his place as being a Red Leader. Although people keep saying that he was the Red Leader, he’d only just begun to demonstrate he had the Red Leader’s spirit. If he could demonstrate his-  _ her- _ strength in battle, then it would only further cement his image as a commanding figure.

Which was why he ignored the cry of his name from Patricia, her unmistakable face touched with frantic concern and her wavy hair flying behind her as she burst in the door, instead focusing on the flexing of his metal hand and the sizing up of his opponent.

“Um,” she stood across from him, murmuring something as she looked tentatively at him. He sent her a reassuring gesture, hoping to placate her fears that he wouldn’t be creaming her on the mat as soon as the match began. It soothed her a bit, as she said something that looked well received to one of the few people around her giving her ‘good luck’ pats.

Now that his focus was solely on her, he could see how she’d brought down the other opponent so easily. She had a lot of upper body strength, from the wide shoulder span and toned arms. This wasn’t a common sight for him, to see and combat a woman so well built and only fitted in a tank top and sweatpants, but he was more determined at keeping up his semi-professional appearance than trying to make a move. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult.

With that settled in him, just in time a few people from the crowd began to count down. 3. She stretched her shoulders a bit and moved further in on the mat. Tord cracked his knuckles and moved in as well. 2.

“My name’s Gena by the way,” she randomly mentioned. 1.

“Nice to meet you.” He puffed out his red sweatshirt, ready.

“Begin!!” They immediately locked hands.

At first, the two of them were merely testing the waters, pushing back and forth, getting a feel for the other person’s stance. Tord let himself move with her pushes before pushing back, feeling the strong resistance he was met with. He already had an idea of what to do, and this proved it. He raised an eyebrow at her already damp face, probably moist from her previous fight.

She grunted, and went straight for the mat, pushing forward with all of her might. He twisted around her, expecting to bring her down with her own force, but was pleasantly surprised when she twisted again, turning the tables. So, this was how she brought down her other opponent.

Tord’s back hit the mat hard, Gena coming down with him. She’d hooked her ankles around his, attempting to prevent him from slipping away from her. Tord had no intention of escaping.

No, instead he went for her arms, gravity tipping her forward and lifting her legs, just enough so that he could get out from under her and directly atop her. She struggled under his leg for a moment, before he grabbed her fallen arm and pulled it back. She stilled.

“Alright,” she croaked. The match was over. Ignoring the people around him, he got up off of her quickly and offered up a hand. Grinning, not sorely, she accepted it. He grasped her sweaty arm for another second, her face growing red, apparently not totally used to whatever she was feeling, as he held eye contact for another second.

“You’re good,” he said, letting her go. “You’d be a wonderful addition to my army.” And he meant, not only  _ their _ army, and this time was received with a happy flush, making him suddenly hyper aware of how clammy his hand had gotten in their fight.

“Thank you,” Gena said.

“T-..Leader!” Patrycia jogged up to him through the gaggles of people. At least she had waited until the end of his fight, he nodded at her. Had she been about to say his name, or  _ her  _ name?

“What seems to be the matter?” he asked, seeing she’d regained some of the urgency she had before.

“I-...Well, you weren’t in your room, so...” she avoided eye contact as she trailed off. Oh. She’d been worried.

“Well, here I am,” Tord said. Had that been all? “So, I see that we’ve already safely returned some of the victims,” He added, moving their conversation in Gena’s direction. She stood up a little straighter.

“Yes. We went ahead and retrieved them about an hour ago.” A random soldier walked up to him, holding his coat out to him.

“Here,” they said.

“Thank you,” he replied, feeling Patricia’s eyes bore into him at the action. He ignored her, hooking the coat around his shoulders, not going to the effort of actually putting it on, before looking back at her. He smiled, innocently.

“...” Patrycia looked like she wanted to say something, probably about his impromptu battle just earlier, but couldn’t seem to muster the words.

“How about we go to wherever you were retrieving me for,” he suggested, “and you can tell me how long until we get to London on the way, etcetera..” He placed a hand on Patrycia’s back, leading her away from the situation before she could try and criticize him or something, and waved behind him.“Goodbye, Gena, everyone. Thanks for having me.” There were a couple salutes aimed at him as he exited the door, including a ‘goodbye’ from Gena. And the door shut.

He smoothly let his hand fall back to him, more content to stuff his hands in his pockets as they walked side by side. They walked for a bit, Patrycia not making eye contact with him for a few paces, collecting herself.  _ What got her goat,  _ he wondered.

He found that he tended to frustrate his close comrades quite a bit. Whether it be for taking too many high security recon missions or for not taking care of his health, it was as if they liked to concern themselves with his business. It was never really official though, that they were supposed to be concerned with those things or anything, just that their close positions with him seemed to automatically...make them do it. Maybe they thought they were his caretakers or maybe they prefered to think of themselves as his friends. Nothing had ever been announced though, and it never became absolutely necessary to do so.

He supposed that Tori’s relationship with Patrycia and Pauline must be similar, for her to act this way now.

“We’re supposed to arrive at the bay in about two hours,” she seemed to break through her concern with a wave of professionalism, something that Tord could deal with.

“Good. I shall begin to get ready soon then,” he said, and at Patrycia’s expectant gaze, he added, “unless there is something else I need to be at before then?”

“You’re going alone, Sir?” Apparently, her counterpart hadn’t filled her in too far in on their plan.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“...No, Sir.” She nodded her head a few times, apparently noting something to herself. What was going through that head of her’s, he wondered for the second time.

Just as they were about to enter the door which would lead them to the control room, she then said cryptically, “You’re going to have to tell Pauly, though.” On beat, as the door swung open, Pauly then looked up from whatever charts she was reading, and began to stroll towards them. Tord and Patrycia met her halfway, Tord trying to shake out his hesitance at her strong demeanor by tightening his fists within his hoodie pockets. He put on a nonchalant grin at her stony face.

“Where have you been?” And as an addition, “-Sir.” His face dropped for a second at the accusation, before she’d tacked on the ‘sir’, and waved her off with the spin of a hand.

“What do you mean, ‘where have I been’. I’m on the ship, aren’t I?” He said, cheekily. ‘Pauly’s’ lips pinched a bit at his feint, but went along with it. There were perks with suddenly being complete strangers with your closest advisors, Tord realized, as they couldn’t try and be insubordinate with him whenever they felt like it. He grinned wider at this revelation, not feeling the same constraints as they had, being their superior.

“So, I am told we’ll arrive in an hour.” Tord stated.

“..Yes. Before then, you’ll have to choose who’ll be going on the infiltration mission with you. I’ve already picked out a few individuals for you, since you might not be familiar--.”

“-Actually,” Tord interrupted, “I’m going by myself.” This got Pauline to crack her stony facade.

“You’re,” she slowly enunciated, “going by yourself.”

“Yes,” he challenged, adding a hard stare to combat hers. “I need this to be a solo mission. I cannot have a bunch of troops bursting in and creating a commotion when I could just as easily retrieve the documents peacefully.”

“Peacefully.” The only part of his excuse that held a little bit of truth. And she knew it. Tord could feel both of his pilot’s wanting to object to his idea, Pauline’s glare especially fierce. As he sensed her eyes flickering to his scarred tissue, he shot her with a glare of his own, daring her and her friend to object to his wishes. They hadn’t reached that point yet, it seemed.

Pauline sharply turned her back on him, not willing to look him in the eye anymore. “Fine,” she bit out. She then marched away. Tord broke himself away from shooting daggers at her back as he realized she was probably going to call off any teams she’d prepared. He warily looked to Patrycia, who’d also contended to look anywhere else but him.

Fine then. He sourly turned to the door he’d just entered, suddenly wishing to be alone for the moment as he left Patrycia standing in the middle of the floor. The room was far too quiet for Tord’s liking, even with the other people working somewhat gingerly at their stations filling it with soft clacks of keys to accompany the guilt hanging in the air.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fun times at the Red Army base. Ahahahhh... Anyway, comments and feedback are always appreciated!! Also, thanks so to those who commented and kudoed so far! You guys are the best!!


	3. The Nature Walk

Tord absolutely  _ hated _ the color yellow. It reminded him far too much of sunshine, a ball of yellow floating in the sky with a creepy, cartoony smile on its face as it beamed down on people and made their lives much more annoying than it needed to be. He hated how the color blared at him, as he held the only other available sweatshirt from the boxes of cheap donated clothes that he’d sought to look for a disguise in. He wished he could just wear his red one, but judging by the picture that he stashed from his bedroom, that would be too obvious.

Tori in the picture had been wearing a red sweatshirt exactly like his, as she hung around ‘Edd’ and ‘Matt’s’ necks with a smile on her face. All four of them had their typical sweatshirts on that day, ‘Edd’ her’s as she spread her green-clad arms out dynamically, ‘Matt’ in her purple hoodie and green overcoat as she bent down for Tori to hook her arms around the taller one. Then ‘Tom’, who was wearing her trademark blue hoodie and saluting the camera with one finger, the rest curled around a bottle of liquor.

He stared at the picture for longer than he’d needed to, before snapping out of it again and throwing the inferior yellow hoodie back into the bin. Maybe he could pick up a black hoodie on the way before he arrived at their apartment complex. Or, if he arrived at their apartment complex.

He’d compiled a few amusing reasons on why he had shown up at their apartment doors, as a stranger with zero connection to them. He considered pretending to sell bibles at ‘Tom’s’ door, spending a good five minutes giggling at the thought of the  _ look _ on his face, but then realized that he didn’t know the first thing on what a Jehovah’s Witness even says when they go door to door. Too much effort, he decided.

Tord would probably have to ‘accidently’ run into one of them and befriend them on the spot. Maybe Matt’s counterpart would be the easiest, in his mind at least, as his version had always been on the lookout for an adventure. Or, Matt  _ had _ been, last he checked.

Or, Tord could try and catch ‘Tom’ at the bar or drug store, seeing as he frequently needed to restock his supplies while he was around. But, then again, Tord wasn’t so sure about dealing with a ‘Tom’, even if he  _ was _ an attractive female counterpart Tom, seeing as he could hardly stand to sit in the same room as the other let alone hold a conversation. If only he could figure out how to get closer to ‘Edd’, since he got along with him easier than the other two.

Did ‘Edd’ ever leave the house without one of the two? Sure, he went on random shopping trips and the occasional arcading spree, but most of his work was done at home, requiring him to do little footwork by himself. He did like to go on adventures with his friends though, taking him to the wildest of places with the three- no, two of them.

Thinking back on all of the strange trinket collections the trio had built up while he was gone, maybe he wouldn’t even catch them at home, let alone need to come up with an excuse for why he needed to interact with them. However, with the research he’d done back in his own world, his friends were still at home, waiting for some release of whatever Matt had blabbed about in some online media site, and hadn’t been planning on leaving anytime soon. But, still, maybe.

Tord randomly selected a black T-shirt and jeans, reluctantly pulling away from the box of jackets, unwilling to part with his red hoodie. For now, he would keep it on, until he needed to be disguised. For now, he could go and check up on Patrycia and Pauline.

With the buzz of the florescent lights and washing machines left behind him, he walked out into the bright hallway once more. Sure, he hadn’t left them on the best of notes just a half hour ago, but since he was getting a move on soon anyway, he’d be out of their hair soon enough, and set straight off towards the control room once again.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do about his scars, but with the amount of females on board, if he didn’t come up with another solution of cover-up, he could maybe borrow some make-up from one of them. Pauline and Patrycia were girls themselves, after all, so they were bound to use the stuff.

Tord pushed straight on and into the control room, almost positive that they would be in there...only to find that neither of them were. He inwardly sighed. He saw that there was a door on the opposite side of all the panels and gadgets, one that Pauline had stormed off through, and sought that as his next destination.

It was another set of corridors, one that housed many of the technicians and pilots on board, so it was only natural that Pauline must be here. A TV screen, one amongst many that were posted around the building, flashed a dismissal for the preparation of a small recon group, earning an approving smile from Tord’s lips. So, she had followed through, he thought, a little bit of trust regained in his pilot counterparts.

He knew which room had been theirs back on his ship, so he first went for there to knock on the door. He wouldn’t usually knock, content to just test the doorknob first, and if it was locked, Paul (and sometimes Patryk) was probably ‘sleeping’. In which case he would bang on the door until his demands were met. He was a ‘little prick’ like that, according to Patryk. Well, whatever, right now he was being nice to their counterparts, so there.

When Pauline opened the door, her thick eyebrows were high up on her head, apparently surprised to see him.

“Miss me?” he asked, pushing past her into her quarters. Okay, maybe he wasn’t perfectly nice, but who expected him to make good first impressions anyhow?

“Not really.” Her response was fair enough. He sat down and spun around, the swivel chair making a round before stopping and allowing him to rest his elbow on the computer desk beside him. Pauline followed him in, but seeming to have wanted his seat or something, she remained standing. Well, whatever.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, arms crossing. 

“Well,” Tord stalled, unsure how to proceed with his request. Straight to the point? She must still be cross from earlier. “Just looking for pointers. For how to deal with this.” He gestured to the right side of his face. 

“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by this shared information, as if she was expecting something else. “Had you...come just to ask if I had any make-up?” she asked, and at his wry grin, smirked back at him.

“That. Maybe.” He tried steering the conversation away from there, with, “or something else, if you knew something better to do.” After all, the make-up would only color over the scars, not take out the texture. Still after being painted, his face was still going to look like the grand canyon with all the bumps and ridges of his still clotting wounds, as unappealing as that comparison sounded. Not that his friends had exactly seen him after he blasted off, but he still wasn’t going to take chances looking like a war veteran from the literal wars he was facing as the Red Leader.

Pauline scratched at her chin, and Tord was suddenly reminded of her counterpart’s trademark scruff that was now absent from her face. Of course she held a lot of similarities to Paul, but the messy and gruff appearance he usually held with his scruffiness was lost on her, and instead she looked maybe a bit classier, albeit with the same harsh sort of attitude and ‘resting bitch’ face.  _ Small differences _ , Tord supposed, thinking of the other dissimilarities influencing this world’s choices compared to his own.

Before he could get too lost in his musings, Pauline interrupted him. “Well, we could make it look like a tattoo,” she suggested, bringing Tord back. “Or, we could give you a scarf to cover it up. Although, it really isn’t the season for it...” So far, Tord wasn’t really feeling either of those ideas, the tattoo, because...even with whatever design it may be, it didn’t settle well in him, especially if it was permanent. And the scarf because it sounded to hot and stuffy to bear. Maybe he would have to settle with showing off his scars after all.

Plastic surgery hadn’t been an option for him, not because it couldn’t be done, but because it felt as though the scars were now a part of him. All the rest of the soldiers had scars and battle wounds from the fierce battlefield, and if he were to cover it up, he wouldn’t be one of them. No, he was going to carry his scars, proudly for the efforts he made for the Red Army. Plus, it was good for troop moral, to both relate to them and to show off having come out of being wounded victoriously.

“Well, whatever we do with you scars, we should at least give you some contacts for your blind eye,” Pauline said. Tord’s blind eye, the one covered up by the black eyepatch, was slightly discolored. Sure, it moved just the same as his other eye, as he’d tested before, but a white gloss coating the retina made it obvious that it wasn’t functional. In order to protect it, he used an eyepatch, since it’s sensitivity to the light was a bit higher than the other. Contacts didn’t sound the healthiest for his eye, but if anyone could make sure it worked out well, it would be his team of people.

“Sure,” he said, just as Patrycia conveniently exited the bathroom. Typical, Tord thought, before his mind began to stutter.

Wait, if those two were like their counterparts, were they--?

This shock seemed to rock him, making him slip off of the desk, bending over in a coughing fit. No way--SHUT up mind! This was Paul and Patryk. Paul. And. Patryk. 

Sensing the two of them approaching him in concern, he waved them off, face red from a little more than oxygen deprivation. 

He wouldn’t think about it.  _ Nopenopenope _ , he ruled, sitting up again with a hand hovering over the bridge of his nose to hopefully stem off the emotions on his face. Paul and P--er, Pauline and Patrycia, allowed him room, Pauline wiping off the concern on her face while Patrycia shifted her balance, unsure whether she should run for some medicine.

Earlier, he had had some problems with his health, after literally losing his arm and earning some rather severe burns. He’d eventually pulled through it, not before going through phases of delirium, fevers, and some panic attacks. He was fine now, for the most part, but it seemed that occasionally he would rebound back, a tissue discovered to have gotten infected or some poisoning in his system not yet flushed out. But, he was fine now, honestly, and their concerns were of nothing at the moment.

If they really knew what had nearly thrown him back again--But,  _ no _ , they wouldn’t.  _ Because it wouldn’t happen again _ . Lowering his hand, he looked to the two of them, as he continued to wage war with his thoughts.

“Um,” Patrycia murmured, unsure of how to react, but seeing as Tord seemed almost fine now, she let it go. “So, did you get a disguise ready?” She looked him up and down, her eyes mainly gluing onto his red sweatshirt.

“Y-yes.” He forced some conviction in his voice, clearing his throat. “We were just trying to decide on how to cover-up.” He didn’t need to specify what, and Patrycia too thought for a moment, before seeming to come up with something.

“What about a face mask?” she asked.

“I do not want to look sick,” he grimaced. Was this in response to his coughing fit? Patrycia shook her head, reiterating.

“No, no, not for that,” she explained. “In Japan, it’s supposed to be a fashion statement of sorts. So..” she trailed off. He grunted indignantly at that, because she was playing into his interests and she knew that, the guilty woman looking away from him nervously. 

Well, it wasn’t the most terrible of ideas. “...fine,” he said, causing the both of them to look surprised. It didn’t matter if he was interested in that kind of stuff or not, it wasn’t a bad idea. His furrowed brows seemed to convey some of this to them, and they nodded affirmatively.

“Let’s go to the medical wing,” Pauline said. “We can get right on the contacts and find a face mask for you.” 

That decided, Tord hopped off of his chair and followed Pauline towards the door, Patrycia content to take the rear. It wasn’t as if he didn’t normally know how to get there, but since it was their world, he let them guide him to where he needed to go. Just because he hadn’t seen many differences in the makeup of the ship yet, didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

And it  _ was _ a little different, by being one door down. This wasn’t the first small difference he’d seen, with how the interior of his office had looked, but still, strange.

The rest of the half hour passed by productively. He’d decided to top his disguise with a baseball cap, Pauline and Patrycia telling him that his hair seemed a little too similar to Tori’s. They’d gotten the contact fixed up for him, enough so you could only tell the difference between the two if you looked closely. And of course, the face mask. 

They’d looked expectantly at him, and he reluctantly took off his red sweatshirt. He refused to hand it over though, stuffing it in his carry-on to be delivered to his hotel. They could dress him up as another person all they liked, but he wasn’t going to hand over this thing.

His red sweatshirt symbolized something special to him. A transformation of character during his time spent in friends’ apartment and a badge symbolizing his conviction as the Red Leader. And he wasn’t about to give it up. It was a small comfort or a weakness of sorts, since it also revealed that he hadn’t always been the confident communist leader he was today. Not that everybody knew what it meant to him, although he thought maybe Patrycia and Paul might have an idea, but they let him have it all the same.

“Alright,” Patrycia said, in beginnings to their parting ways. They were hovering just over an expansive field on the outskirts of the town Tord was to go to.

“We’ll be out here, working some more on the skeleton ‘you’,” Pauline said, ‘you’ being the other Tord, “had up to this point for the Mech.”

“We’re only a couple hours south from London, so you can take a bus straight here if you need anything from us.” Patrycia added, although Tord severely doubted this and rolled his eyes, the effect greater now that he had both of them visible.

“I’ll be fine,” he dared, and she had the tact to look bashful. Unlike Pauline.

“If the mission doesn’t go fine,” she said sternly, “You’re to come back here. And we’ll go from there.” It felt more like an order, which sparked something familiar in him towards the two of them, not unwelcomely. But, he squashed it down, and instead took on indignance at her rebellious tone.

“I won’t need to,” he returned, and bit out, “-thank you.” And he turned from them and towards the open exit. There was a ladder awaiting him to be lowered down on for about 50 feet, but that wasn’t the reason his stomach suddenly churned.

He would be parting away from the mirror, his passage back to his world. Although he knew it would be waiting for him by the time he came back, it felt as though he was parting with the last piece of him that was familiar to him. He clutched the backpack strap a little tighter, swallowing down his unease and approaching the hatch door.

Without a final goodbye, he slipped through the exit, holding onto the ropes tightly as his was lowered to the ground. It took only a minute for him to make it to the ground, the ride very smooth thanks to the efficiency of his soldiers. The bus stop wasn’t far from here, only past some more fields and brushes, so without falter he strode away in that direction.

The long yellow grass tickled his nose as he waded through it, the fields unkempt and overgrown with disuse. He was grateful by the time he got out of it, pushing past leaves and twigs as he pushed northwards. It really was a beautiful day, the morning approaching since their mission had gone on through the night. It must have been about 6:30, or so.

He only had to walk about 15 minutes, walking from the forest brush to a small hiking trail that eventually lead to the road. The clean air was nice, compared to the ashy air of last night’s gunpowder and fresh death in the air, and he enjoyed the walk. It was rather beautiful, with the red light of dawn leaking in through the leaves and speckling the path with a sort of glitter.

By the time he made it to the bus stop, he’d have about 45 minutes to himself to wait for its arrival. This would give him even more time to ponder on his first destination, he supposed. He laid back on the bench, the metal cold against his bare arm, urging him to take out his red sweatshirt but ignoring it, instead crossing his arms in front of him to minimize the contact.

A slight wind brushed up against him, both in a soothing manner and in a way that raised goosebumps along his bare arm. He never realized how peaceful being out in the country could be, and his thoughts were rather free in this open, quiet air. It wasn’t something he would want to enjoy forever though, since he far more enjoyed the sounds of the battlefield, drowning out unnecessary thoughts and propelling him further towards victory. But, temporary pleasures were nice.

Tipping his cap down a bit to shield off the ever rising sun glaring at him, he closed his eyes to recollect what he was going to do: First, he’d go and set up in his room, unpack all of his necessaries, and then head out to go shopping. Once he’d found a nice sweatshirt that could replace his red one, for the time being, he could go to his friends’ apartment complex and wait it out. Then, once one of them exited, he would sneak into their room and try and locate the blueprints. If that didn’t work out, if they’d properly hidden whatever he was looking for, he would set it up so that he’d ‘accidently’ bump into one of them and start up a conversation, up the charm, and get them to eventually take him right to where the blueprints were.

He fell into a hypnotic state after he’d cleared away those thoughts, and ended up dozing for the rest of the time. The ‘grumble-rumble’ of the bus woke him up, and he sat up, tipping his cap up in time to witness it rolling in and stopping where he was.

Hopping onto the bus, and ignoring the weird look he received at the sight of his mechanical arm, or his face mask... or both, he paid fare and went towards the back of the bus. It was empty so far, but he knew that once they’d approached the city, it would quickly fill up with passengers. With that in mind, and wanting to avoid more stares than necessary, he finally gave in, pulling his sweatshirt out of his bag and shrugging it on.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was basically Tord having a dirty mind and Pauline and Patrycia dealing with it. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience!! The next chapter's going to be a lot of fun, so...I dunno, be prepared, I guess?
> 
> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!


	4. The Hitpigeon

Tord sat in a cafe booth, looking sour as he stirred his tea half-mindedly.

He did most of what he’d planned. He was able to smoothly go from his room, to a local thrift store where he purchased a black sweatshirt, then headed to wait outside his friends’ doors. It was ‘Matt’ who’d left first, her bouncy attitude apparently undeterred by the early 8’o’clock hours as she headed out to wherever she was going. He quickly shot a tracker on her through a blow-tube, the sticky pin grabbing hold of her sweatshirt as she locked her door behind her and walked out.

Tord had expected that it wouldn’t be hard getting in. That was why, when, at his breaking entry, he was met with the barrels of about six guns to his head, he was surprised, to say the least. He’d managed to avoid getting his head blown off, but the gunshots had created quite a ruckus, causing some doors to be opened, and with the place now on high alert he chose to ‘visit’ another time, preferably with 'Matt' in tow.

He hadn’t thought that she would be one to keep such things so well guarded, as she’d never been the secretive, plotting type in his mind. But perhaps his friends had finally learnt what their connections to him meant, that his activities were as dangerous as the memories he left behind to them. He was too smart to leave all of his secrets out in the open for them to have access to, but perhaps the suspicions that he would one day return lasted in their minds, like a scar, reminding them to be wary. But the physical scars on his body were concrete, real proof that he needed to succeed, which meant getting into that building, and were what led him to this cafe, to watch as ‘Matt’ attempted to have a date with an inanimate object.

Honestly, how much conversation could one person strike up with a mirror before one got bored? She had the thing taped to the back of the chair across from her, it’s face level with hers as she chatted half-lidded to it, apparently mesmerized by it’s ‘eyes’. She’d been content to just talk to it and sip her coco for almost an hour now, and it was beginning to drive Tord nuts. His tea had already been refill twice after growing cold, and one could only get so much out of watching this spectacle before it got both annoying and extremely sad.

Tord couldn’t believe he was competing with a mirror.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she got up. Tord sighed in relief, and was starting to get up when he saw her walk around the table and untape the darn thing and give it a kiss.

Maybe he ought to hire a hitman for it or something. A hitmirror? An idea struck him, and Tord grinned mischievously from behind his mask.

She was walking down the sidewalk with the mirror held slightly above her as she continued to look at herself. It reminded Tord of those teenagers who got into trouble for looking at the phones for too long, and he almost pitied what he was about to do. But first, he searched for a projectile…

‘Matt’ had miraculously made it to the crosswalk just as the light turned to red and traffic stopped, since she’d barely looked up as she came to it and started walking across the pavement. Tord shot at a random pigeon, either killing it or paralyzing it, and threw it at the girl- or rather, what she was holding.

The pigeon flew through the air, sailing and knocking the mirror straight out of the girl’s hand and onto into the middle of the street, the bird bouncing and continuing on to land on the other side. ‘Matt’ stopped, shocked at whatever just happened. Her hand was empty.

She looked down and saw the mirror... wasn’t broken! She cried in relief and she crouched down, holding it close to her face as she bawled and whispered comforting sweet nothings to it. Okay then, Tord blinked.

He’d originally thought that it would’ve broken and she’d have to abandon it on the asphalt, but no. She sat there, in the middle of the road, the light timer ticking by, crying over a dumb mirror that was clearly okay. 

Before Tord could marvel over this, the flash of a light caught his eye. Get off the road! He willed, watching as ‘Matt’ dumbly stayed crouched where she was, still mooning over the mirror. She wasn’t moving. Okay then, he would have to take this into his own hands then.

Rushing at her, he grabbed hold of her cardigan sleeve and forcibly dragged her towards the sidewalk. It probably didn’t look heroic at all, as she cried out in pain as her knees bumped against the road before she stumbled to her feet after him, but at least it was effective.

And she still had that dumb mirror in her hand!! He considered kicking it off back into the street himself before his hands were suddenly grasped together and a wet, snot-nosed face was pushed in his space.

“Thank you so much!!” She burst back into tears, a grateful smile adorning her shaking lips as she held his hands in between hers. The mirror was situated between them, Tord noticed.”You saved me and Matty!!”

“Uhm...” Tord hesitated, slowly processing who ‘Matty’ was. “You’re..welcome?” Wait a minute, this was what he wanted! He shook himself back into reality as his hands were let go and she cradled the mirror close to her again. “Who’s ‘Matty’?”

“Oh, silly me!” she laughed, “This is Little Matilda. And I’m Matilda!” she laughed again, apparently finding herself funny for some reason. When she stopped laughing, she looked at him funny, although Tord didn’t really do anything to warrant it yet. Unless she knew…

“N-nice to meet you,” he said, trying to deter any doubts she had about him. She suddenly started to laugh again, her giggles permeating the air, making Tord wonder just what was put in that hot coco of hers. “Why...are you laughing?” he asked, huffing a nervous chuckle at her strange behavior. 

“Ah, sorry! It’s just, you didn’t laugh,” she confessed, her giggles dying down now. Oh, she thought he would react funny to her...mirror, perhaps? He’d gotten over that about an hour ago.

“Was I supposed to?” he asked, just for clarification.

“No,” she stated. She seemed content to just stand around and talk to him, until she suddenly remembered something and started to look back and forth. Really, Tord just couldn’t predict what she was doing.

“Did you see it?!” she exclaimed. Tord merely scrunched his eyebrows, confused. “The PIGEON!” she began to angrily stomp around, until she had found it. It was laying on the ground, twitching feebly at the abuse it had just undertaken. She glared at it, for just a moment, before huffing and began to strut away. Tord attempted to keep up with her, acting concerned.

“Are you alright, miss?” he asked, jogging a bit to keep up with her tall legged strides.

“I’m…!!” she halted, giving him a chance to catch his breath before she jerked back. A look of fear was written on her face, and Tord’s breath caught in his throat. “You’re not...”

“I...” he began, trying to dissuade whatever she was thinking, but not being able to come up with an excuse.

“-You’re not sick, are you?” she asked, hands kept closely to herself as she inched away from him.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, relieved. “No, no, no, this is just...” a disguise? A weeaboo thing? “-a fashion statement,” he settled on. She pinched her lips, apparently judging what he said. She did relax a bit, after a moment of thought.

“Oh.,” she echoed back. It was an empty response, and he could feel her silent judgement as she attempted to paste a smile on her face.

“I know what it looks like,” he said, trying to hold her attention. He needed her to like him, darnnit! It was much easier when he had the use of his charming smile and cute hair, but now he probably just looked majorly suspicious. His black hoodie combined with his baseball cap and facemask probably made him look like a small drug store robber or something! He had to think fast. “You probably think I look suspicious. Like, a creep-o or something,” he said, and she nodded along to him.

“Definitely,” she agreed. Just as he suspected.

“But you see, I have to wear this. You see...” he thought for a moment, before he uttered, “...I was born ugly.” Tord thought he read that line in a manga once, and it seemed clever at the time. His statement hung in the air, like a joke without a laugh track to fill in the awkward pause. Instead of laughing or shunning him right there, she instead began to look angry. Like, so much so that he had to take a step back as she loomed over him intimidatingly.

“I don’t believe you,” the plainly stated, making him flinch like, oh no, it didn’t work. But then she said, “you shouldn’t have to hide who you are from the world. Just because they don’t understand your beauty, doesn’t mean you should listen to them!” Oh. He stopped inching towards the road that would have surely flattened him had he fallen over the edge, and relaxed a tad. He bit his lip, relieved that she was buying it, but not totally feeling out of danger.

“Well, one such as yourself wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of society's ridicule,” he assured, mentally patting himself on the back for the sneaky compliment he threw into that complex sentence. His Matt had a terrible vocabulary, Tord remembered, so he must have gained some advantage now. “And mask doesn’t hurt anybody, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you!” she said, surprising him. “The more you let society steamroll over you, dictating how you feel about yourself, the less freedom of expression there is for everybody.” Wow. That statement almost sounded pretty intelligent, Tord realized. “By not contributing to the world’s differences and conforming yourself to hide, maybe no one will know what beauty really is until they’ve been graced to gaze upon your face.” She thrust her mirror in his direction, flinching at how close it came to hitting him. Wow. She was...really passionate about this, he realized.

Looking at the mirror forced him front of him, one eye plastic looking and the other real, he realized she was waiting for something. Her face was determined, and seeing that he was looking at her, she thrust the mirror a little closer to him.

“Er, what do you want me to do?” 

“Apologize.”

“Phh! What?” he asked, trying to find the joke in her statement. She tilted her head, gesturing to the mirror once more. Her face was very serious.

His face dropped. He’d always thought as Matt being the self-centered one, caring mostly about his looks, especially his face. Apparently, this branched out into trying to make other people also like themselves. Tord looked emotionless into the mirror before him, cold eyes reflecting back at him as he analysed what Matilda was trying to make him do. 

It wasn’t as if he would be apologizing for anything he meant before, but for some reason, he hesitated. Looking at himself so closely, it almost felt like there was something more he needed to apologize to himself for, and that didn’t sit well with him. But Matilda couldn’t make him do anything else than he needed to, so what was he worrying about? He was analyzing this too much.

“Sorry,” he muttered, face turning red and eyes averting. Jeesh, really he shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it, he realized, embarrassed for himself. Looking back up at Matilda, she seemed to be watching him intently, but started to smile. At his expense, he thought sorely.

“That’s better,” she said, lowering the mirror to her side again. “You know, you’re kinda cute.” Tord’s brows scrunch together, irritated at how that comment made his face grow hotter.

Tord opened his mouth, ready to object to that statement, when she suddenly said, “Say, you wanna go out with me?” Tord’s heart leapt in his throat, but thankfully he didn’t burst out into another coughing fit. Instead, he began sputtering. He was supposed to be the one to initiate the friendship, not the other way around! Not that...this didn’t work to his advantage.

But, it was kinda sudden, all the same. Did she have any alternative motives? “W-What? Why?”

“I dunno. But no one ever seems to accept me and Matilda’s relationship, so I tend to branch out sometimes.”

“Are you you sure,” he started to tease, “you are not just trying to make yourself look good?” She thought for a second.

“I guess I am,” she admitted. “But not for the reason you think.” She stood there, wide-eyed and expectant and Tord realized he hadn’t given her an answer yet.

“...Alright,” he accepted. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity, even though it would be extremely similar to dating one of his old friends. She jumped in the air, her mirror suddenly absent as she clasped her hands in front of her sincerely.

“Yes!!” she cheered. “I’ll be the best girlfriend ever!” she promised, though Tord knew, from Matt’s past experiences, she was probably going to break that promise. Oh, well. He just needed to stick around her until he got a hold of his blueprints. She broke him out of his thoughts by taking his arm and dragging him along with her.

“Where are we going?” he asked, and she merely looked over her shoulder and grinned.

“On a date,” she replied.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That poor bird. Also heeeere's what I meant by kinda Tord/Matilda. Oh, don't worry, it only gets (worse) better from here. 
> 
> A special thanks to jackinthebox123 for their support! ;-; All these Kudos and Comments make me super excited to post these next chapters. ((Also, I've gotten far enough into the story that I'm thinking about a sequel/side story, to see Tori's experience in Eddsworld, but, uh, we'll see.))


	5. The Fresh-Fish Stand

The remainder of the afternoon was spent with Tord being dragged from place to place. Arcades, theatres, and beaches were all ‘dated’ upon, Matilda never seemingly satisfied with staying at one place for too long. Thankfully, due to Tord’s military training, he was able to keep up relatively well. On the other hand, just as he was getting comfortable, stood watching the opening scenes to a drive-in movie theatre or sat on a picnic blanket and in the middle of a sandwich, he’d be broken away from his thoughts of ‘how can I get her to finally go /home/’ and whisked away, as Matilda was distracted by yet another attraction of some sort.

It wasn’t as if he was actually enjoying the date, with it only being a means of gaining a superweapon. No, that’d be ridiculous. The majority of the time though...felt like he was babysitting, actually.

It was starting to get late. About seven hours passed since his first meeting Matilda, and the date was finally reaching it’s peak. To Matilda, this had probably been the best date ever, seeing as her boyfriend hadn’t gotten left behind in her absent mindedness yet (although, he did have to remind her that they were on a date a couple times...). Meanwhile, Tord was...beginning to get tired. Not physically, but a bit mentally, of having to continually reel Matilda back in, (“Yes, we are on a date,” “Oh. Hey, wanna go see that fresh-fish stand over there?”) while not getting results.

It was getting late, and Tord was going to give it one more shot, or so God help him he’d have to forcibly try to make his way in. Tord stood with a hand full of bags, also known as the purchases Matilda had made at the mall before Tord realized this wasn’t a good idea, she wasn’t going to stop buying things any time soon, retreat, retreat, whilst Matilda chatted away. 

“Are you sure we can’t stay for more?” she asked, clearly wanting to go back into the jewelry shop since she’d seen displays in the window advertising a sale. She straddled the sidewalk and the first step to the entrance, torn. Tord shook his head vehemently, forcing a large toothy grin on his face, for while the mask covered most of the visual emotion, it didn’t hide eyes or voice, and replied.

“No, no, no! It is starting to get late, and all of that jewelry looks so dull and boring,” he insisted.

“I don’t like dull and boring.” She glanced behind her, “But are you sure..?”

“Yes! So,” he started to walk, now that he had her attention. Their footsteps realigned, and Tord mentally sighed with relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere for dinner!”

“Oo! I know a place!” She jumped up in delight, her mind already racing to start to take her feet there.

“Uah, me too!” he said, placing his left hand on her bicep to calm her. Her head snapped to him. Here goes nothing… “You see, there’s this super romantic place that I’d love to take you to,” he said. Her eyes started to wander from him, meaning he must be dragging this on for too long. He tightened his grip, more in order to steady himself and his dwindling patience than to bring her back, and continued, “But you see, there’s a ‘no mirror’ policy.”

“-So, I think that it’s time we put our Little Matilda to bed now, hm?” Matilda’s lips dipped, apparently none too pleased with this idea.

“That sounds like a terrible place,” she huffs, taking her arm back and crossing both. He was losing her!!

“Oh but, that’s because the place is filled with mirrors,” he laughed, spreading his arms out. “SO many mirrors! It’s a mirror paradise!” Maybe that was stretching it out too much.

Matilda looked forward, blankly. Tord held his breath, hoping  _ please _ let this take them to her apartment. She glanced over at him with tight lips, and finally nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, releasing a breath. “Yeah, okay.” Tord also released his breath, and reflected some of the small smile she was showing him in his eyes.

“Perfect,” he declared, strolling with a bit more purpose. “While we’re there, I might as well help you with your bags on the way up,” he said, trying to weasel his way inside before he’d even gotten there. 

“Sure! My arms do feel a bit sore now,” she said, rubbing the spot that Tord had been gripping earlier. Whoops.

“Perfect,” he repeated, more to himself. Glancing up at her over his cap, he noticed her tired, pensive frown. He purposely bumped into her, light enough so that she stumbled for one step, before regaining their equal pace. He knew that these kinds of things bothered her, but it did snap her out of her stupor.

“Hey!” she cried. This elicited a small snicker from Tord, before she bumped into him. It was a bit stronger than he had done, and almost had him tripping off of the sidewalk, but this seemed to satisfy her as she then laughed too.

There wasn’t much to say, after their laughter died down. The day had been beautiful and well spent, their shadows now growing before them and the street lamps turning on, signaling near the end of it. Or, at least, for Tord it was about the end of it, seeing as he was hopeful for finding his blueprints sooner rather than later at Matilda’s.

Their arms brushed together once, momentarily breaking Tord from his anticipations. Matilda was none the wiser of what was going on before her, always far too trusting of strangers than she should be, like her counterpart.

She was like Matt in a lot of ways, in more than just outward character traits. She had the same weird mannerisms, like with frequently checking her appearance in any reflective material they were passing by. Or obviously, with her attention span, like with talking about one thing passionately before immediately forgetting what she was just talking about. Or with things like getting defensive about her personal space only to frequently let a person in again, like with Tord threatening to trip her up only to bump arms with him later.

Tord felt something grab his hand. Eyes widening, his reflexes kicked in as he yanked his arm away, eager to rid the foreign feeling on his flesh. They both stopped.

Matilda looked as though he’d just striked her, hurt tinging her pretty features. He stared back at her, struggling to wipe how much that little gesture jarred him, wondering  _ why did he do that? _ Failing to recover quickly enough, as her eyes already averted to the ground, he clenched his hand shut, subjugating himself to try willing weird the sensation away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shutting his eyes. He needed to excuse himself now, make her forget again, or do something to get rid of the aching pit in his stomach. They resumed walking, quiet streets oblivious to Tord’s internal conflict.

He overreacted and now had to recheck himself before he lost his cover. Was it because he never pretended to date anyone before, that such a little intimate gesture as holding hands was too difficult for him and needed more experience? Or was it that the intent behind the gesture scared him, because she was the one to initiate it with compelling interest to do so, while him feeling nothing in return caused him to automatically repel it? As much as he boggled his mind, no scientific, biological conclusion was bringing him the answers he needed. He would have to drop it, maybe save it for more a psychological approach later. He instead, tried thinking of a way to breach the unpleasant silence he’d created. 

A minute went by of their footsteps receding into the late afternoon’s air. It seemed a bit odd, Tord realized, that Matilda hadn’t gotten distracted by another thing yet.

Matilda was as unreadable as...well, almost never, but when she actually was thinking about something, a quirk Tord was slowly coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. Tord scrunched his brows together, ready to protest because she had nothing to apologize for. But, seeing her mouth opening and closing, trying to say something else, he wanted to first let her piece it out before he interrupted her.

“I know I shouldn’t grab at people like that. I hate it when other people take advantage of the affection I give them, to try and take advantage of me in return. Especially with my face...” she said, her hand coming up to caress her strongly-defined chin. “It was dumb.” She looked like she was about to go on, but Tord stopped her, having heard enough.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he sighed. “You are not taking advantage of me when you grab my hand.” He lifts the inferior fist up, mimicking the holding of hands. “I am just...” well, he didn’t know why he overreacted, but he might say, “-...not used to it. The touchy-feely.” After he’d said it, if felt as though he could mean it.

“But with you, it’s okay,” he insisted, trying to bridge the gap between them again. “I like you. You are...you make me comfortable.” He went as far as to grab her hand, in order to prove that, yes, he is a good boyfriend and will not lose her over something as stupid as his true feelings leaking through this facade. He smiled. She didn’t look entirely convinced, glancing away again as if she wanted to think some more, but then Tord leaned closer, using their intertwined hands as leverage.

As Red Leader, Tord had just gotten used to defending himself from any intimate or soft gestures. It was necessary, to both put up a strong front in front of thousands of soldiers both in and out of office, and kept him in a position of authority. Without that defense mechanism, Tord thought, recalling a couple instances, he’d probably have been injured or dead long ago. He felt a little bad for letting the ‘Red Leader’ affect Matilda, and a little worried, so he changed the subject.

“Now, come my sweet. It is getting dark and I am getting rather hungry,” he said, smoothing his tone into one that usually swayed people like Matt, or a girl version of him. 

It appeared to do the trick, because when she looked to him, Tord could almost see something inside of her melt as she allowed him to keep her hand, saying, “Okay.”

The next quiet that filled the rest of their walk wasn’t terrible, only lasting for the 5 minutes of the rest of their walk, linked arms swinging between them. Tord was more attentive to the occasional city-sanctioned trees lining the sidewalk than their hands, determined to not let his mind rest on it. But at the same time, he kept adjusting his grip, unsure how hard he should be holding her hand and curious as to why his hands were clammy when it was so chilly tonight.

When the apartment came into view, he tried not to let his anticipation of knowing  _ exactly _ where it was show. They only came to the first set of doors before Tord finally allowed himself to break away from her, eager to get inside, not to just take his hand back that would be silly, and to get started searching for the documents. There was a small giggle from Matilda, because she giggled very often for reasons unbeknownst to him, and pointed above them.

“We live on the third floor,” she told him. He didn’t mention that she had said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, and nodded.

The pair took the stairs and was up there and just outside Matilda’s door in no time. 

Then, just for insurance purposes, Tord spoke up. “Is there any place specific you’d like me to set these down?” he asked, just as she’d gotten her door unlocked.

“Um, the kitchen’s just fine,” she answered, and the door opened.

Tord hadn’t even had the chance to get a good glance at the entryway, following behind Matilda, before the firearms appeared before him again. They protruded from the ceiling threatening to embed holes in him again, but this time gave a fair warning to Matilda as it slowly ‘whirred’ to life. Tord already had a metal hand held up, this time ready to defend himself if the need arose, but didn’t seem to have to as Matilda scolded the machines.

“That’s my boyfriend, you dumb, dumb machines!” She kicked the side of the wall, and stressed, “ _ Boy- _ ... _ -friend _ .” Her voice commands seemed to do the trick, and the guns receded back into the ceiling. Tord lowered his arm, staring hard into her as to try and ask, what was that? She shot him a rueful smile.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she said, as if she wasn’t apologising for nearly killing him. “I had a friend pay to install it for me, but I guess it gets really buggy sometimes. It shouldn’t happen again, though.” Since she was acting all fine about it, and Tord didn’t want to stall anymore for getting inside, he shrugged it off.

“It’s fine.” He’ll live now, anyway. Especially now since he was beginning to get an idea of how to disable it using this free entry pass Matilda was giving him. He let those thoughts settle in his mind as he trailed after Matilda, however slowly becoming perplexed at the new scene.

Tord was imagining, when he’d discovered that the gang had taken to living in separate spaces, that each of their houses would look identical to their old one. For some reason. But, even with just peering inside at the entrance hallway, he’d found himself forgetting why he’d even thought so in the first place.

Every couple inches, lining every possible wall space, was either a picture of Matilda or a mirror. No exceptions. He would have bumped into a wall just marveling at all the pictures, in between something of fascination and horror, had he not felt the eyes on the wall boring into him before impact. Somewhere on the way, Matilda had walked through one of the ‘hall of mirrors’ and disappeared into one of the rooms, leaving Tord to stumble a couple paces before making it to the kitchen.

It was only after he’d placed the bags on the counter space, which was thankfully clean of pictures and mirrors, before he remembered his purpose for being there and set to work.

While he cleaned his way through most of the kitchen drawers, just as he had been wondering,  _ what was taking Matilda so long _ , a knock resounded throughout the apartment. 

“Coming,” Matilda called from another room. Tord slammed the two drawers he’d been investigating in shut, and at the same time Matilda burst through the opposite hallway. She disappeared into the short hallway where the front door was, and Tord could hear the click of a lock being undone and a, “Hello, neighbor!”

Instead of a greeting in return, like Tord had been expecting, he heard footsteps of the new arrival rapidly approaching where he was. Tord didn’t have the chance to even hide or remove himself from the counters, before a figure waltzed into the kitchen.

It was ‘Tom’, there no mistaking it from her resemblance to the group picture and just the fact she was wearing a blue hoodie. Oh, and the eyes, as Tord reluctantly made eye contact with her. She glared at the ‘newcomer’ as if she wasn’t the one to just bust in there on her own.

“Who the heck are you?” she demanded, before Matilda appeared in the kitchen after her.

“He’s my new boyfriend,” she said, and looked to Tord, a glimmer in her eye as if he was a new addition to her toy collection- which of, Tord had yet to find.

“Tom-,” he said, regarding her and nearly slapping himself for his slip-up. ‘Tom’ raised an eyebrow at him, one of which had a piercing Tord busied himself with noting in embarrassment, and played along.

“Hello, Tom.” ‘Tom’, ironically, greeted Tord.

Matilda was quiet for another beat, as if she was just remembering,  _ oh yeah, I never asked for his name _ , and aloud, “Oh yeah!” 

Then, to Female Tom, “Me and Tom were about to go out for dinner!” As if too having to remember her purpose,  _ this home seemingly designed for inducing amnesia, _ Tord thinks, ‘Tom’ leveled her glare on Matilda.

“You stole my tape,” she accused. “Susan’s in need of having her bandages changed, but all of my tape’s mysteriously disappeared. And I know you’re behind it.” Tord remembered the tape that Matilda had used to dine with her mirror that morning. Matilda shrugged, holding out her empty hands.

“I don’t have any tape,” she said. “Who has tape?” She’s a terrible liar, Tord also noted. ‘Tom’ must have heard his thoughts or something, because she turned back to him.

“And what have I told you about bringing your dates home?” she asked Matilda, her gaze drilling into Tord.

“He hasn’t run away yet,” she defends herself. As if anyone could make Tord run away, pfft. Although, with what her house looks like, he could understand where ‘Tom’ was coming from.

“True,” ‘Tom’ gives her, “but it looks like you should be. Where’d you find him, the streets? No, maybe an alleyway?” Her incredulous tone told Tord that she’d already made up her mind about him, glare now soling boring into him, and he levels her with a glare himself. Before Matilda could answer, yes, or something equally as dumb, Tord speaks up.

“And who are you supposed to be?” he asked, seething underneath his mask. “I don’t take to being insulted by strangers, especially one that uses insults that could just as easily backfire and be used against them.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, trying to gain equal grounds with his hated, old friend’s doppleganger.

Something like surprise crosses her face while he talks, before it turns to indignance.

“If anyone’s the stranger here, it’s you,” she defended herself, rather unnecessarily, Tord rolled his eyes. She walked closer to him, just enough to get in his personal bubble, and said, “I’m her best friend. And the name’s Tamara.” _ ‘Tom-ara?’ _ , Tord thought,  _ at least it fit with the naming trend _ .

“Guys, please.” Matilda stepped in between them. Tord was getting the feeling this was getting too close to their usual dynamics, as to their male counterparts back at home. He stepped back from the two of them, to try and erase the feeling.

“Tape, please,” Now named ‘Tomara’ in Tord’s mind, requested, holding out a hand to Matilda. Tord took another side step, retreating. The two of them looked towards him, noticing his slinking back, and he stopped.

“I’ll just,” he said, trying to think of an excuse, “give you two a moment. To talk.” Without waiting for a response, he finds himself only one step away from the corner and takes his exit.

He didn’t know which Matilda-hallway he was in, but soon found that this one lead him to a set of three different doorways. One wass open and clearly showed that it lead to a living room, where a couch and TV awaited him. He ignored that room, in favor of the other two, opening one briefly to discover a bathroom and the other, the bedroom.

Tord could hear the voices of Tomara and Matilda grow in volume behind him, with, “you’ve got a serious lack of judgement,” and “are you drunk right now?”, before he shut them out behind him with the bedroom door.

_ Ah, there’s her toy collection _ , Tord discovered,  _ although, it’s a little smaller than what I remember _ . He picked one of them up, and felt it, trying to detect the light crinkle of paper or spot a strange seam in one of the tags. After that one, he went through the next, and the next, before he got through the whole pile before sitting on the bed and tossing the last toy into its pile, grunting disappointedly.

Alright, so female him didn’t hide it in the toys. It made sense, he supposed, since those things were highly flammable and were destined to be destroyed one day, anyway. 

Next, he looked under the bed, and found many, many shoes underneath. They looked to have been haphazardly thrown underneath by a blind person with no sense of organization, and there was no box or container around to be seen. He gave up on that hiding place as well.

Nothing else particularly stood out to him on his search, and where he’d been especially on the lookout for a scrapbook, he hadn’t found more than the pictures strewn all around Matilda’s walls. Perhaps he could just ask Matilda to show it to him.

As he took a moment to rest from his search, he didn’t notice the voices dimming at some point, but he did notice when the door opened.

“Tom?” Matilda said, somehow remembering his spur-of-the-moment name.

“Oh, Matilda.” He turned around from where he was facing the bed. “I was just...looking for the bathroom,” he said.

“Oh, it’s just a door down. Only other door,” she said, “besides the living room, anyways.”

Tord laughed, as if sharing in some joke. “Ahah, silly me. I thought maybe...it’d be connected here, you know?” He chuckles while he walks towards her, wrapping an arm around her. She started to laugh too.

Then Tord said, “You know what? I’ll only be a minute. Is your friend still here?”

“No,” she replied, and pointed. “She’s right there.” Looking up, freezing for a moment, Tord spotted Tomara. She’s leaning against the kitchen door frame, a half-lidded expression on her face.

“Of course she is.” Tord ignored Tomara, and instead rotated him and Matilda so that they were facing the bathroom door. “Why don’t you entertain her for a bit, and then we can go out for dinner, alright?” Tord said. He really needed to think of a way to get out of dinner, since he had absolutely no clue of any diner that’s main theme was mirrors. Tord patted her on the shoulder with his metal hand, before reaching out with the same hand to the bathroom door handle.

Closing the door behind him, he knew he only had so much time he could spend in here before the girls would get suspicious. He could feel the burn of Tomara’s gaze, every move that he made, giving him the feeling that she  _ already knew _ . But, she couldn’t have, because he’d disguised himself for that very purpose of them not knowing.

Those darn eyes, void of any light or pupils, never gave anything away but with the words he/she’d use with them. They made Tord feel less sympathetic, when he’d harp on Tom the most, only continuing when he’d fight back. 

It had been fun, back then. Now though, Tom, his Tom, had a track record of continually getting in his way, from his first suspicions of him before he left Edd’s house to the point where he’d launched a harpoon through his shoulder. Hopefully, this wasn’t another way that ‘Tom’ was getting in his way, with just by knowing Tord’s counterpart that she’d therefore somehow connecting him to her.

But, back on track, he needed to think of a way to throw them off track. He also needed to buy himself time, so that he could continue his search in their homes. He’d only gotten a bulk of Matilda’s home, but there was still ‘Edd’ and Tomara’s home that still needed checked. Some acting had to be involved, and some really good excuse to stay…

He stared himself down, leaning against the bathroom sink, hard in thought. It was as if he was looking at half of another person, where the right side of his face gave him a whole new identity with the tragedy. Another person…

Perhaps...Tord’s hand hovered down to the bulk in his right jean pocket.

Meanwhile outside of the bathroom, the door Tord had went through reopened..“Yes! Yes. I am here,” he said into the phone, as if the other person was having trouble hearing him. “No, I haven’t been back all day. What?” he saw Matilda’s concerned face, but pretended to be torn back to the imaginary conversation.

Tord’s face fell. He turned partially sideways again, so that Tomara could see him, and ‘replied’, panic rising in his throat, “A gas leak?! Where? Is-?” he stopped, letting the other person room to continue. On either side of him, he could see from the corner of his eye the tilt of Tomara’s head towards Matilda, whose eyes were glued to him.

“Oh, I see. That’s good. Yeah, I...” he trailed off, swallowing nervously. “No, you worry about yourself for now. Yes. Take care. Goodbye.” And with that, he hung up. Biting his lip in anticipation, he tucked his phone away back into it’s rightful place, before turning fully around to face the both of them.

Tomara was no longer leaning against the doorframe, but still had a hostile cross of her arms about her. Matilda’s face was contorted into what she must have thought was a ‘sympathetic pout’ or something.

“Ehm,” he hesitated, and finally settled his gaze at his feet, hand coming to nervously scratch the underside of his hat. “So, uh. My apartment just, uh, had an ‘accident’, it seems.”

“Oh no! Your apartment!” Matilda exclaimed. “Is that where you live?!”

“Yes,” Tord answered, Tomara shooting her with a ‘no duh’, look.

“What’re you gonna do now?” It’s Tomara who asks this, surprising Tord a little bit. Instead of smiling at this prospect, he contains himself by flattening his lips together in ponderance.

“Well, my landlord’s getting the place all cleared out, but it’s going to take a day or two,” he said. Tomara frowns some more at this, while Matilda immediately reacts, as Tord hoped she would.

“Why don’t you stay with us!” Again, Tord didn’t comment on the use of ‘us’, however, Tomara did.

“You mean ‘you’,” she corrected flatly. 

“Same thing.”

“That would be,” he tried not to sound overly accepting, “extremely kind of you.” He settled his gaze on Matilda softly, trying to convey his gratitude. It probably just looked like puppy dog eyes to Tomara though, because she proceeded to gag. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her.

“Alright you two,” Tomara broke off with two seconds later, hands in the air. “I’m just going leave this alone and buy some new tape. I don’t care anymore.” She kept at least two feet away from them as she moved towards the entryway. She disappeared into the short hallway, and Tord was just looking back to Matilda to say something before he was interrupted.

“Oh, and,” Tomara said, and popped her head back around the corner. “-by the way. Don’t be creeping around my door at night. Just a fair warning, I will kick you and your creepy face and arm back to hell where it belongs.” It was a rather extraneous warning on the surface, and he gestured to her how he felt so. An unsettling feeling in his gut told him that she knew something more though. With a coy smile that pushed her eyes up into what looked like a waning moon, this time she disappeared out the door for good. 

Matilda seemed to think nothing of the exchange, and started to excitedly bounce in place.

“Sleepover!!” She squealed, delighted. Tord sighed through his nose, and pumped his metal fist in return. 

“Yay, sleepover!” he said, weaker than she did. More babysitting was in order, it seemed. And now he had another ‘problem’ to deal with.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough cough, please look at this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-5oSYMQHHc&feature=youtu.be --
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for sticking around so far!! I've officially got it all written, but I just need to pace myself while I write the sequel. And yeah. Kudos and Comments are always appreciated! They make my day, honestly.


	6. The Scrapbook

There was a moment’s pause, in between which Matilda grinned largely, just staring at his face. Tord’s cheek twitched underneath his face mask irritably. There was little point in standing around in the middle of the hallway, whereas either of them had yet to try and whisk the other away in order to go to their next destination...which was dinner. Ah, Tord remembered.

“You know,” he said, his tone barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break this comfortable silence. “-Just being here with you, surrounded by all these lovely mirrors, I hardly even see the point of going out anymore.” As he spoke, his word had the funny effect of making a blush rise in Matilda’s face. Huh. That never happened before.

“A-Ah, yeah,” she stammered, averting her eyes shiftily. Tord quirked an eyebrow, amused by her behavior. “I have some food. We could p-probably just eat here.” She clasped her hands together in front of her, a pose of a girl much shier than she’d ever displayed before. Was it something about being in her own home that made her suddenly conscious of the situation? Because, it wasn’t anything Tord was doing differently, not really.

Matilda quickly lead the way to her kitchen, yelling after her, “C’mon!” Tord trailed after her a bit slower, eyes freely scanning the walls and ceiling as he passed. In the kitchen, Matilda had already pulled out a chair and was now standing behind it, somewhat courteously.

Tord stopped before the table, confused as to why she was offering him a seat. Wasn’t it usually the other way around? He didn’t have time to wonder anymore before she got tired of standing in that one place, and walked around to the other side of the table, arms presenting the table as if it was decorated in romantic decor. Shaking his head at her antics, he took the seat that she had pulled out for him.

“I’ve got...” she stopped, as if her memory was failing her. She walked over to the fridge, sticking her head in to try and refresh it. “Oo! I’ve got some TV dinners I could heat up.” She pulled out two brown meat instant meals, holding it up for him to see.

“That sounds lovely,” he said. Tord consciously kept his hands off of the table, one hand grasping red metal, fingers drumming quietly.

“Great!” She perked up, accomplished at her small find. She walked over to the counter, her back facing him as she prepared the meals.

Tord’s metal arm had a small amount of wireless capabilities. He usually used it to control the plethora of devices he made, very often changing and increasing the capacity and range of devices it could reach over the couple months he’d had it. This was why it would be no trouble to do some rewiring right under the kitchen table to search for the devices controlling the lethal security system. Tord hoped, that once he’d broken through Matilda’s security, he could just as easily break through the other two’s, assuming they had taken similar measures.

“Two minutes, then...One and a half minutes...” Matilda muttered to herself. “-for both of them.” She didn’t seem to prefer the silence right now, because she continued talking, this time to him. “You know, I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian. Cuz if you were, then I don’t know what we could have eaten.” Tord made an acknowledging noise, continuing to fiddle with the device since she had failed to turn around yet so far.

Matilda’s main computer system was not responsible for hosting the home security, which made sense in Tord’s mind, since it was so militant in nature and would therefore have to be more hidden than that. It reminded Tord a bit of his own security, built in his office to ward off intruders and traitors, stylistically that it. The Red Army’s technology was a bit more complex than just pointing guns at people and shooting them down, more bordering on things like tasers, lasers, electric fields, and so on, so if a traitor needed to be disposed of immediately or needed to be held for questioning, both was as easily possible.

“Oh! I was supposed to take the film off,” Matilda rambled, “-silly me!” She must have noticed the one-sidedness of the conversation, finally, because she looked behind herself, and asked, “You know, I don’t usually get to take my dates home. This isn’t weird, is it?” Tord looked up from his work.

“Well, it’s,” Tord tried to think of something meaningless to say, “different. But it’s a good different.” This seemed to satisfy her, and she looked back in front of her. He continued on his arm.

“That’s a relief!!” she said, and after a beat, blurted out, “Whew!”

It was a good thing he was indoors, because he found he was in range of practically all of the devices in the household just by sitting in the kitchen. The problem with this was that he would have to comb through most of them if order to find the specific one, as they were all assigned jumbles of characters as names. He set himself to reprogramming his device and hacking into each one individually.

The microwave beeped, signalling that it was finished.

“That’s weird...” Matilda muttered, opening the microwave and poking the dinner, “it still had 30 seconds left...” Oh, whoops, wrong device. Tord set himself to hacking another titled device.

“Hey, Tom,” she began. Tord glanced up, but seeing she was preoccupied, kept at his own work as well. “When’s the last time you took out a girl?” It was an odd question to start off with off the bat, but he responded all the same.

“Highschool,” he said. She paused from where she was struggling to tear off the second TV dinner’s film.

“Oh,” she said. And then, another question, “How old are you?”

“21,” he revealed, only an afterthought later did he think he should have given her false information there. Well, she would probably forget it anyways, so it did not matter too much. “Why are you asking these things now?” It was odd, and she wasn’t even looking at him while doing it. It was far too abrupt to be casual as she was trying to pass it off as, and he wanted to know why. Maybe it would get her to stop interrogating him.

“I just...” Either she was trying to think of why herself or she was hesitant on telling him, but then she continued, “I feel like I want to know you, now.” The way she said it, before turning around to him, revealed to Tord that she thought this was a bigger thing than it actually was. Tord shrugged at her, hands pausing in their work.

“That’s alright, I guess.” He stayed still, keeping his eyes down at the exposed inner workings of his wrist. “Except that I hardly know anything about you.”

The microwave made a humming noise, mimicking the gears turning in Matilda’s head in this moment. How was it that she was thinking deeply three times, so far this evening? Tord wanted her to start going on about herself, so that he could avoid any more questions about himself. Was she aware of what he was doing?

“I would love to hear more about yourself,” he prompted. This did the trick, as Matilda snapped out of her reverie, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Alright.” The microwave beeped, and she placed the two dinners on the countertop. “Well, there’s a lot to know, so prepare yourself.”

“I’m listening,” Tord stated, a small smile forming on his own lips as he quietly cleaned up the exposed parts of his arm so that he could place it on top of the table. Matilda set down the two steamy dinners across from eachother and sat down.

“Okay, so, how about I start from the beginning,” she suggested. Tord nodded reassuringly, which released the final tether holding Matilda back on him. 

She launched into a story about herself from when she was young, something about going to the beach with her parents and getting icecream for herself afterwards. It was rather long, and she made sure not to spare him any details about herself, from what she was wearing to what flavor icecream she got. Tord made sure to look attentive, as to make sure she kept at her story.

As she went on about her childhood, right about in the part that she started introducing her friends to him, he stopped her for a moment.

“-What did they look like?” Tord asked, cutting into Matilda’s rant about how much Tom and Edd were afraid of rabbits after an incident with the school class pet.

“Uh, well. You’ve seen Tamara, and she basically looked the same,” she said unconvincingly. It was true, that she had yet to give any detailed descriptions of anyone but herself. “Ell also looked the same, I’m pretty sure...” Again, the same unsureness leaked into her voice.

“You keep talking about your childhood,” Tord reminded, “-but do you have any photos of those times you’ve had? It might give me a better picture.” Matilda thought for a moment, but thankfully not for long before replying.

“Sure! I have a scrapbook,” she said, and Tord smiled in anticipation.

“Oh, really?” Tord was mentally celebrating in his head. “That sounds perfect!” He got up and went around the table to retrieve her. Similar to how he’d managed earlier, he placed a hand on Matilda’s back, already guiding her onto her feet in order to get a move on.

“But, we haven’t finished our food yet.” Both dinners remained untouched throughout Matilda’s stories. 

“That’s alright.” Tord kept her moving, using his whole arm to pull her along while using the other hand to pat her arm, somewhat mimicking an embrace. “We can come back to them afterwards.”

“Um,” she murmured, relinquishing control. “Okay.” Tord continued to guide them to the bedroom, where he expected the precious item to be kept.

He let her soft form go once they’d reached the bedroom door. She opened the door for him, allowing him to enter the room for the second time that evening. Matilda walked straight towards her closet, leaving Tord to make the decision to sit down on her bed.

Nothing had yet given away where the blueprints were as he watched he pull her head out of the closet and turn towards the bed. Nor had anything been revealed by the closed book cover in her hand as she walked to him, sitting next to him so that their knees bumped together. He saw her square chin facing him from the corner of his eye as he stared down at the book of mysteries, eager to have its contents revealed to him.

“Where were we…” she wondered to herself, and she finally opened the lovely book. She immediately began flipping through a large chunk of papers, and Tord kept his eyes pealed on the pages, hoping to catch a glimpse of blue construction paper.

“Ah! Here.” She pointed to a photo of a class of small children, directly at what must have been a younger version of herself. He tore himself from staring at the pages to following the finger up to her face, where she was watching for his reaction. He shot her a half-smile. He realized that the effect must have been ruined by the fact half of his face was covered, when she pursed her lips, disappointed.

“Ah, um. Is that your class in elementary school?” he asked. Prompting her to go on seemed to alleviate his mistake from her mind, and she nodded back.

“Yeah, I was pretty adorable,” she stated proudly. “Or, am, indubitably.” She closed her eyes, very sure of this fact. However, when she met eyes with him again, her face turned a little red before she averted them back to her scrapbook. He scrunched his nose at her strange behavior

“Y-Anyway,” she began again. “Ell was in the same class as me, I’m pretty sure. So she’d be...” She scanned the little faces with her finger, almost running past the one before she finally rested it on one little girl’s face. Tord felt his lips tug upwards a bit at the likeness to his old friend.

“She’s so little!” Matilda cooed, echoing Tord’s sentiments and causing him to snap out of it and instead hang onto her words. “She was pretty quiet back then. I think we started hanging out after elementary school? Yeah.” 

She looked over on the same page to another picture, one with Tomara in it. Matilda was hanging onto her ecstatically, with candy in hand, obviously hyped up on sugar. Tomara’s hair looked more similar to Tord’s world Tom’s when it wasn’t in it’s ponytail, Tord noticed, the only difference being the slightly more feminine facial features touched upon her cheeks.

“There’s Tamara,” she pointed out. “We used to hang out a bunch in elementary school. Then we didn’t hang out until late high school, because of Ell I think.” She looked at the page for a second, and Tord would have thought she was getting lost in memories if she didn’t say next, “Wow. Her hair looked terrible then.” Tord snorted at that.

Instead of picking back up on the story she’d left off on, she started her next story off of the picture of her and Tomara. She talked about how Tomara and her parents often got in touch with her parents and set up playdates for the two of them. This was one of them, though she didn’t remember who was there to have taken the picture, and she remembered having a good time. She was in the middle of indulging in a tale of how she’d done some valiant thing that got her candy, something involving a baby for some reason, before a noise interrupted them.

It was the door again, and this time Tord’s heart leapt at who it might be. Mainly his concerns lay with if it was Matilda’s friends again, because so far they hadn’t gotten to a good start, based on his appearance alone. What if Tomara had gone over to Ell and shared her suspicions at who she thought he was, and she was now coming to investigate herself? Or worse, she already knew who he was and had called the police.

Tord forced his fears down his throat. The fears of the police were only a little warranted, but why on Earth was he afraid of ‘Edd’, for peat’s sake? He pushed down the answer he knew he had for that question, and instead focused on the scrapbook Matilda placed down on the bed after she’d gotten up.

“Coming!” she yelled. “I’ll be right back,” she said to him, before walking out the door.

Without Matilda there to monitor him, he was free to peruse the book for himself, which he immediately set off to. He already knew which photo to look behind first, having remembered seeing it back at the base.

It was about three quarters in the thick scrapbook, where he saw it: The picture he had used as reference to what the group of them had looked like before Tori left them.

He stuck his finger in between the plastic film and the book paper, slipping the photo out. Turning it over, taped to the back, he’d found what he was looking for.

The blueprints.

Hearing footsteps closely approaching, he quickly sat on the photo he’d confiscated, and replaced the scrapbook where it had previously rested. The door opened just in time to a scene that looked where Matilda had left it as. Tord sat on the bed, raising hand to make it look as if he was looking at his non-existent mechanical fingernails, and he perked up at the new arrival.

“Hello,” he greeted. Matilda’s head was poked in the door, as if hiding something, or probably someone, behind her.

“Hello,” she returned. “I’d like to introduce you to somebody.” Tord had a feeling he knew who she was talking about.

Not seeing any objections written on his face, she continued, “Tom, I’d like you to meet Ell.” She pushed the door open to reveal Ell, standing there with her hands in her pockets.

Ell had stared at him for a second longer than she had to, before she weakly lifted a hand up to him. 

“Hey,” she said, her face mirroring Tord’s sudden urge to be anywhere but around this person. Tord remembered his earlier mistake of letting Tomara call the shots on her judgement of him, and decided to make the first move. He stood up from the bed and walked towards her, not breaking pace when he saw her take a step backwards.

“Hello.” He held out a hand to her, and said, “I’m Tom.” Tord might as well own up the name, now that he had it, he figured blandly. 

Although her face was still twisting in fear, she took his hand, and returned with, “Ell.” And then, “-My name is Ell.” As their hands clasped together, Ell’s gaze turned into that of a guilty one, and she let go, stuffing her hands back into her pockets.

“Like I said, he’s my boyfriend now,” Matilda reiterated what she must have already said at the door. “And he’s not suspicious at all. Not really, anyways.” Tord, confused as to what they were talking about now, noticed Ell’s guilty face turn blank.

“I guess not,” she admitted, though she didn’t look at him when she said it. “But still, you need to be careful. The system doesn’t just act up like that,” Ell half-whispered. Ah, the security system he had yet to hack into. He flexed his metal hand in response to this reminder, as if to grab the sheets of the bed, before remembering. The picture.

“Just because it hasn’t happened before, doesn’t mean it can’t,” Matilda said, not minding that Tord had turned around and was moving back to the bed. “What if...Tori’s DNA is contagious?” So, the scanners were looking for their DNA, Tord noted thoughtfully as he fell back onto the picture that he had left behind. When he fell back onto the bed, he noticed Ell’s eyes on him, before she noticed his watching.

“DNA isn’t a disease, Matt,” Ell said. “And it scans for high percentages of DNA, not just a single hair, or something that could be easily ‘caught’ on a piece of clothing or something.” That was...something that would be hard to write off, Tord realized, cringing under the harsh stare of Ell.

“So it CAN be caught like a disease,” Matilda noted.

Apparently Matilda had already told Ell that the system had acted up when he was with her, so there were witnesses to his involvement already. He couldn’t just write it off as it being someone else now.

“No, because if he has her ‘disease’,” Ell said. “-then he IS her.”

Crap, they were definitely onto him. He turned around on the bed, so that his back faced them. He shoved his sweatshirt sleeve up his arm, tucking it close to his chest so that the other occupants wouldn’t immediately see.

“But he can’t be her,” Matilda insisted. “Tori’s a girl.”

“Clones.”

Tord had gotten to see the access codes of the list of devices again, and started fiddling with another. He needed to act quickly, looking into the data of one, and immediately going onto the next after seeing that it was so simplistically coded.

“But--.”

“We could have missed it. But it could have been a deformed clone,” Ell stressed the word deformed, and Tord tightened the grip on his miniature tools. Focus, focus, the chanted to himself, as he unlocked another program, and found much more sophisticated lines of data. Perhaps…

The two girls went back and forth one more time, but Tord had blocked them out until Ell spoke up with, “Hey, what are you doing?” Tord could barely hear the footsteps padding on the floorboards towards him as he focused to the little tapping his hands made against the metal workings as he tried activating whatever this device’s main function was.

Ell grabbed his shoulder, and he quickly pulled down the black sleeve back over the still open-paneled metal arm. He was forced to turn partially around, Ell’s face one of hostility.

As if answering Tord’s plight, a miracle occurred when in the distance gun shots suddenly broke out. Ell let go of Tord’s shoulder as if she’d been burned, jumping at the explosive sounds. Matilda screamed.

All three of them remained still until the gunshots stopped. Tord didn’t have time to celebrate inwardly, only allowing himself a smug grin at the shock on Ell’s face, before he set himself to comforting his girlfriend. On his way over, he quietly slipped the photo in his back jean pocket.

“Was that-?” He didn’t complete the sentence, only placing his right, metal hand on Matilda’s shoulder to break her out of her startled trance. Her head snapped to him before she started to melt before him. She wrapped her arms around his back with a whine, pulling him into her and setting her wide chin above his head. He had to turn his head so that his hat wouldn’t fall off.

“Toom,” she held out his name, swaying a bit on her feet. 

“The-...” Ell uttered, recovering from her momentary speechlessness. “-The security system…!” He couldn’t see her from where he was held, but could hear the breathlessness in Ell’s shocked voice, slowly coming to terms.

It wasn’t uncomfortable where he was, being pressed against her taller form. Her sweatshirt was rather soft, actually, and felt especially soothing against his, to use Ell’s word for it, ‘deformed’ cheek. But since her whines had finally died down, and it was getting rather quiet in the room, he finally broke away.

Matilda looked alright now, but behind him, he turned to see Ell awkwardly shifting in place, looking at her feet. Tord rolled his eyes, and figuring that they’d probably check the front door a bit later to make sure nobody died, decided to break the silence.

“Who is...this person you are trying to keep out?” he asked, figuring it was the best way to work through their suspicions of him.

“They’re...” Ell began. During her pause, the group heard the front door opening and closing, and footsteps running towards the bedroom. Tomara burst through the door, scanning the group, alert.

“What was that?” Tomara interrupted. 

Ell switched to Tomara’s question, with, “You didn’t see anyone out there, did you?”

“No,” she said, looking confused. “What’s going on?”

“The security system’s all faulty,” Ell decided. “It didn’t try and shoot you, did it?”

“No. I heard the gunshots and came as fast as I could,” she said, then bent over a bit, adding, “I think I got up a little too fast.” She released a sick sounding burp. From where Tord stood he could faintly smell alcohol that was probably reeking from her seeing as he had a facemask on.

Ell brought her attention back to where Tord and Matilda stood. “I guess you should know,” she said, responding to his earlier question. “Seeing as you got caught up with it. Just, don’t tell the authorities,” she begged. “We have a very good reason for having the defense measures that we have, which that’s all they are, and we could end up dead if we don’t have them, you see, so…!” She went off for a bit on that one, and Tord waved his hand at her to stop.

“I won’t, it’s fine. Just,” Tord assured, “-tell me.” Ell must have read on his face that he was being honest, he wouldn’t try and sue them or call the police, and sighed, before beginning.

“Her name is Tori,” she said. “She used to be a friend of ours, before she ran off to try and make something out of herself in the city over.”

“Or, that’s what we thought that she was doing, before one day, she came back on the pretense of wanting to reconnect. It had been a couple years since she left, and I guess in the time that she was gone she’d...done some, pretty nasty things.” Ell paused, before stating, “We never really expected it from her--.”

“-I did,” Tomara said.

“--Tamara did. But we had no clue, and let her back in,” Ell continued. “It’s because of her that our old house is destroyed. That one of my annoying neighbors got terribly injured, worse off than any of us.” Tord didn’t remember that, but whatever. 

“-And that we have to continue to...be on the lookout for her.” Ell finished. It was interesting, hearing the story from another perspective like this, but Tord couldn’t let himself dwell on that fact for long. He didn’t want to get lost in those memories again, especially not here, where they were all surrounding him, all completely unaware that HE was the one who destroyed their home, and that HE was the one that continued to haunt their minds, his presence burned into their minds causing them to be so wary and--

He stopped breathing and the metal in his hand creaked from when it bunched together. The biting of his nails into his left palm were what brought him back, pain grounding himself in this foreign territory.

They were all watching him, he noticed, and he searched each of their faces for what they were looking for. Ell and Tomara were unreadable to him, and he saved Matilda for last, hoping to see a change. Her face had also been unreadable, at first that is. However, then she found something in his gaze to smile sadly about, which Tord found...he couldn’t stand to look at right now.

There was a heavy weight in his chest, making him feel a bit sick just standing in between the three of them. He felt a bit like a man in a gladiator ring, waiting for his crimes to be repaid by the releasing of lions. But no lions would come, he knew, making him feel all too tired.

With two of them lost in their memories, it seemed, Matilda was the first one to say something again. “It’s getting pretty late, guys,” she said, her voice snapping Tomara and Ell back to reality.

“Hm,” Ell make an agreeing noise. Tomara met her face, also concurring, and lead the way to the front door. Ell stayed behind for a moment.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to do some more research on fixing those booby traps,” she said.

“Take care!” Matilda said, as Ell rotated towards the door.

“You too,” Ell returned, before saying to Tord, “Sorry, again.” With that, she left the two of them alone in the bedroom.

The air still felt stale, raw, and basically uncomfortable standing in anylonger. Tord, without the judging eyes of the other two boring into him, could finally bring his mind to reality again.

He really couldn’t control his reactions to his friend’s and their involvement with his, as well as he had hoped. This was probably what Patrycia had been worrying about earlier, letting him go alone like this.

But he hadn’t completely broken down. He was fine, he reminded himself. He hadn’t begun to hyperventilate, anyway. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine--.

Matilda put a hand on his left arm, and tilted her head towards the door.

“We should go and eat dinner,” she said. That idea did not sound at all appealing to his stomach right now, but he nodded, mutely, anyhow.

All that rehashing of what had gone down, what had finally severed his final ties with his friends, what had made them hate him, what had made him almost hate--had caused him to temporarily forget about the blueprints he’d stashed away. Biting his lip, and looking to the side of the TV dinner that lay untouched on the kitchen table, he focused his mind on that. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Matilda, even as she spoke to him.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” she asked, clearly noticing his lack of appetite. He tried grasping onto her voice, long enough so he could utter a response.

“No,” he said shortly. He needed to come up with an excuse, his mind screamed at him, but the pounding in his ears muffled the sounds from him. Matilda sighed from where she sat across from him.

“All that talking about the past made me pretty depressed,” she announced. She took up her tray and walked it over to the trash. “I’m gonna turn in now.” Tord finally looked up at her. “There’s a blanket already draped across the couch.” She paused, eyes lasting on him for a second longer, before she sent him a final, “G’night,” and left the room.

Tord’s shuddering breaths became audible in the silence that remained in the room. He ripped the face mask off, the air becoming far too stuffy and hot, and kept a hand on his forehead. He let himself crumple onto the table, elbow propping his head up as he stared down into his lap.

As if it was a necessity, he ripped into his back pocket and pulled out the picture again, ignoring the fact that the blueprints were taped to the back of it. Instead, he looked at the people on the front of it, foreign to him yet so, so familiar. The photo bent a bit under his metal thumb.

He stayed like that for minutes, before he finally brought himself up to walk over to the couch. He then laid down and let sleep take his memories away, if only to bide time until he should make another memory eraser gun.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... : >
> 
> (YAAAS I finally motivated myself to start the sequel. I'll explain what it's about after this story's done. But yeaaaaah.)  
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated! I love that I'm not the only one reading my story, haha.


	7. The Drunkard

Dreams of gunshots and explosions were what managed to take the guilt away from his heart. In warfare, he found himself able to lose all sense of weaknesses that plagued him in domestic settings. It was why, being the commander of an entire army, always playing the part, that he was perfectly suited for his role. He was an unstoppable, unwavering force.

It was also why, when he woke up just an hour or two later, he felt immensely recovered. He even felt a bit stupid, as he usually did after these repetitive episodes, for letting himself feel so responsible for his friend’s pains those months ago. It was an act against the system that constrained them, and infiltrating his friends homes and lying to them was only a piece to the solution.

In the end, all regrets would be liberated and only loyalty and order would remain in everyone’s minds.

Tord was extremely disappointed to find, unfolding the blueprint papers, that these were not the plans he had been looking for. It was merely a prototype for a time machine, never constructed before for fear that mankind was not yet ready for it. He remembers folding it up, saving it for a later time when the Red Army would need it, and instead continuing on improving basic teleportation.

He didn’t linger on it, as only one stone, or one photograph, had been unturned so far. He replaced the photograph to its original place, in Matilda’s bedroom where she still slept, and set to work.

Tord resumed his searching of Matilda’s apartment for a while. He checked the bathroom with her make-up and first-aid kit, the living room with the TV and her DVD’s, her bedroom again with her phone, computer, and clothes, and the kitchen with her dishes and silverware. So far, he’d only come up with a few nostalgic trinkets and a few well concealed weapons, but no more blueprints.

It was highly likely that Tord’s counterpart hadn’t trusted Matilda with anything so fragile as paper, besides behind that one photograph, Tord concluded, as he finished flipping through the pages of the scrapbook. More likely was it that she would have left the papers in Ell’s drawing collections or a flashdrive with Tomara’s music compilations. 

Now that he had a better idea where to look next, he went back into his arm to disable the rest of the security systems. It took about a half-hour, where all three systems weren’t connected so he had to move until he found a good place to hack into it from outside their doors, also making sure he didn’t set something off in the process. All in all though, he made pretty good time, and it was only a bit after midnight by the time he’d busted into Ell’s home.

Ell’s home was much closer to that of their original home, to Tord’s comfort and relief. The layout was still similar to Matilda’s, but it felt much easier to navigate the hallways when they looked so generic, rather than so...personality filled. 

The first place he checked was Ell’s bedroom. He was very cautious at entering, knowing that his ‘Edd’ had a habit of staying up late with whatever he was working on.

There was a desk lamp turned on, but it looked as though she was asleep. Still, Tord took extra care with where he stepped around her bed, as he sifted through papers and drawers for the item he was looking for.

Her art was as impressive as he remembered of Edd’s, if not better than he’d last seen of it. When they were in highschool, when they weren’t going on any adventures or just hanging out, this was what Edd would have been doing 90 percent of the time. Then the other 10 percent was just eating and sleeping. He remembered being a little jealous of Edd’s talent back then, as he had still been balancing the aspirations of becoming a comic book artist with his communist leader ambitions. And though he’d put his first dream on hold for the time being, it was still gratifying seeing a couple instances where he’d attempted to contribute his art into Edd’s--well, Ell’s- pieces.

It was strange seeing so many more muscular men than women though, from what Tord usually would have drawn. Also though, it made him a bit uncomfortable, unable to prevent cringing at one where she’d made sure to put as many details into the two men’s anatomy as she could. He stashed away the rather lewd drawing he’d been looking at where he’d found it, and continued on his search.

Edd would never have destroyed any of his drawings, even the ones he hated looking at. Those drawings were the ones that Tord was particularly looking for, as it would have been more difficult for any plans to have been discovered by chance.

Hopefully they hadn’t been destroyed along with their old house.

He did find some old machine plans, hidden within the pages of a stick figure comic. But of course, they weren’t the ones he was looking for.

He didn’t take too much time searching through anywhere else in the house, as the bedroom kept most of Ell’s old keepsakes and personal belongings anyway. Within the seams of an old blanket he did find a cigar he must’ve smuggled in during the time he’d returned for those couple of days, as he hadn’t gotten hooked to them until after he’d started commanding his Red Army. He pocketed it, grateful for past-Tori’s thinking ahead, and left the house as quietly as he could as to not disturb his old friend sleeping in the other room.

Someone who he’d purposely saved for last, Tomara, was next, unfortunately. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to come this far, because as he’d already noted, luck was never on his side with ‘Tom’. Sure, he could probably beat his sorry drunk ass anyday, thank you very much, but they also had a history of clashing to the point where both of them would lose.

Much like Edd and Tord’s rivalry- and yes, they all had ongoing competitions over numerous things growing up at one point or another- they were very evenly matched. Back then though, while Edd and Tord would have eventually made up or admitted defeat to the other, Tord and Tom couldn’t afford to lose to eachother. Mostly it was over stupid things like a word mispronounced, or an embarrassing weakness revealed...But unlike Edd and his’ battles, they were mostly verbal, which was where the problem lay.

Sure, physical battles could prove a point before being done with it, but verbal battles were ongoing and vicious exercises. Some of the things that Tom once said to him during their arguments would still get him gritting his teeth today, wishing he’d said something different or just finally went and punched his lights out. That’s what he did usually, nowadays, wherein if someone spoke out against him and what he was doing he’d just lash out against them. Back then he’d been passive, so wanting to keep Edd’s approval and the sense that he had a roof over his head to come back to.

Maybe if he’d even once had a full on confrontation with him, not just a hidden punch here and there that only served to temporarily inconvenience him, things would have finally been resolved between the two of them. But no, that wasn’t the case, and the tension never really dissolved between the two of them.

And, as luck would have it, just as he was reaching for the doorknob, low and behold Tomara opened it for him. He stumbled back, more for safety than of shock, as she had a murderous expression on her face. He had half a mind to tuck the lockpick extending from his finger back into its slot, before she ripped into him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.  _ How had she known he was coming? _ Tord’s mind was racing as he gaped at the opposing figure.

“I was just…-” Apparently he didn’t think of an excuse fast enough, because she immediately continued on.

“Didn’t I tell you not to creep outside my door?” She bared her teeth at him, jaw locked as if she was contemplating literally biting his head off. He raised his hands, finally pleading innocence.

“I was just coming over to ask you something,” he said. 

She snapped at him, “At night?”

“Yyes,” he drew out, finding flaws in his own excuses before trying again. “I just wanted to know what Matilda’s favorite dish was. So I could make breakfast for her before she woke up.”

“It’s midnight,” she repeated, then added, “-creep.”

“...I’m sorry,” he feigned, and tried looking smaller than her. Which wasn’t hard, because for some reason she seemed to be the same height as him today, rather than shorter. Huh. “I must be used to my own sleeping schedule or something.” Tord thought that she looked severely unconvinced. “No one really sleeps back at my house,” his voice nearly squeaked at the end when she took a menacing step towards him.

“Look. I didn’t want to say anything before, with Ell and Matilda around. But I know you’re her.” She said it with such confidence, Tord almost believed her. He couldn’t confirm or deny her suspicions before she continued, puncturing each statement with a jab to his chest. 

“Don’t ask me how I know. Don’t deny it.” He shut his mouth on instinct. “But since you’re here now, that tells me you’re a little more than a clone.” She had him backed against a randomly opened window, the only thing separating him from the pavement below. Oh, the cruel things fate did when ‘Tom’ was involved. He gripped it tightly on either side of him, resisting the urge to physically show her how right she was. 

She pressed, “How did you do it?” Tomara cut off his thoughts of coming up with an excuse. “No, not how you cloned yourself. How did you survive?” Her voice cracked at the end, and she retracted her finger from him and instead bared her fist in front of him.

She can’t have known. Her last question definitely compromised her resolve, so he determined himself at wedging himself through that weakness. “I don’t know why you think I’m her,” he said, but before he could continue, she grabbed his front, jerking him.

“I know you’re her!!” she yelled in his face. He grabbed her hands, surprised at how she nearly lifted him off the ground.

He could feel the cold of the window’s metal frame biting the skin where his sweatshirt had pulled away from. Tomara was highly worked up, her alcohol breath coming in hot compared to the open air outside. And over what? She’d had yet to say anything on how she’d known that Tord was Tori, so she must have been lying. So that made it even more confusing as to why she was demanding answers from him that he didn’t, and couldn’t, have.

Was this a sign of grief, perhaps? The amount of emotions he could read on her face, paired with her steely, violent resolve, suggested that this wasn’t about him being her after all. 

“I know how much she meant to you.” There was a twitch on her enraged face, encouraging him. “I saw the pictures.” She jerked him again.

“What do  _ you  _ know?” she growled at him. That question settled it for him, that this wasn’t about him at all.

“...” Her breaths were coming out short and shaky, and the grip on his shirt seemed about ready to throw him off over the edge. He felt himself mesmerized by the way her eyes began to emit a purple glow. It was kind of ethereal, just touching over her anger flushed cheeks before floating away with the wind. 

This was about the possibility of Tori coming back at all. It was the effect of Tori’s lingering presence that drove the gang to install so many security measures, and to keep it all updated, and to still grow quiet whenever her name was mentioned. Had he really done that to them, had he really affected them that much? He didn’t want this fear of him to interfere in his mission, or any missions in the future.

He needed them to let go of him. Tori would probably want it too.

He relaxed his grip on her hands, prepared for the worst, and finally stated, bluntly, “She’s not coming back.”

Instead of shoving him out the window, like Tord half expected, Tomara released him, staggering back a bit. He’d hit the nail on the head, Tomara looking like she was in shock at his verdict. Good, maybe she would finally get over their friendship, like he had. Before he could move away, a hand shot towards his face.

It was his turn to be shocked when he felt cold air hitting his cheeks.  _ Well, dritt _ .

“How did that happen to you?” She held his facemask away from him, pointing at his face. His wounds.

His entire right side had been seared, looking to have gone through a cheese shredder before being patched up again. Some spots were beginning to get their skin back while others were still tender and red. Most prominent were three scars riding down his cheeks, where the skin had been cleanly sliced through by his battlemech caving in on him, reaching from his jawbone to the corner of his eye. 

She seemed more concerned with his scars than the undamaged, Tori-resembling side of his face, thankfully. But, that meant he needed to give an excuse to her, as to why he had the damage. He raised a hand to his cheek, trying to feel out his next lie forming in his mind.

“It was a freak accident,” he said. “We were driving, and there had been a car parked at the side of the road. Their emergency blinkers were on, and my parents wanted to help but--...” He’d already had this prepared. 

He had imagined that his parents had come to a slow, before stopping behind them. They got out of the car to meet with the driver...but, plot twist, “-The driver wasn’t there. The car started smoking, and before anyone could do anything-…!” He clenched his eyes shut, burning the image of his parents ‘dying’ in an explosion behind them. 

He met Tomara’s wary stare, something like grief written on his face, before saying, “I was the ‘best’ off, in the end.” 

It was still for a moment, like Tomara was taking time to process this new information.

Then Tomara said, “You had parents.” It was a statement.

“Yes.” This time it was his turn to be annoyed. Was anything he said going to convince her tonight? At least now, seeing how her eyes were shifting side to side looking at both parts of his face, she seemed a little torn. Maybe.

Did she still think he was a clone, and that was why she was surprised he had parents?

-Or a lot torn, because she still didn’t say anything for a full minute. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem wise for him to be the first one to break the silence for now, with Tomara still looking on the verge of punching his face.

Tomara’s front door was closed, but most likely unlocked, just waiting for him to bust into it to find his blueprints. With this strange confrontation, however, he probably wouldn’t be able to break into it in the immediate future, having recently been caught. Tomara was a strange drunk, being able to react quickly to situations while at the same time being completely smashed, perhaps a skill gained from their adventurous past, so it was likely that she’d wake up upon his intrusion.

When she began to sway on her feet, Tord decided that he’d won the waiting game, and saved them from this sudden awkwardness.

“Look,” he said. “You’re drunk, tired, and pretty worked up over earlier this evening.” She made a move to protest, punching the air weakly like a toddler throwing a hissy-fit. Tord noted, that it was the one holding his face mask.

“I’m not,” she said, equally as childish. He shook his head.

“Of course.” Better to agree than argue with a drunk, Tord figured to himself. “But still, now I realize it’s pretty late, so I’ll just ask you in the morning what I was going to ask.” He put his hands up like a flag of peace, approaching her slowly.

“..You weren’t going to ask anything,” she countered.

“Of course I wasn’t.” He returned. She was beginning to falter more and more, and Tord saw it was gaining him the advantage. 

She, maybe in her apparent guilt of having been drinking, seemed to have lost the confidence she’d had in herself before. However, when he put a hand on her elbow to guide her back to the door, like to a drunk who’d easily lose her balance, she jumped away from him, hostile.

Instead of saying anything at his intrusion, she narrowed her eyes at him, before marching towards the door herself. 

Tomara swung the door open, saying, “Just stay out of our lives,” before harshly closing it behind herself.

Well,  _ that went as well as it could have _ , Tord thought.

 

\---


	8. The House

Vibrations of metal jostling against the poor cushioned seat were what kept Tord awake this early morning, as he stared out the scenery passing him by, with his arm resting on the windowsill.

“Babe,” he called out to her, the nickname rolling off his tongue foreignly. He opened the door to her dark bedroom, and when she did not stir, tried again, “Matilda.” She made a small noise, turning over to him.

“Hmz?” she asked. Tord walked over to her bedside.

“I got a call. I’m going to go check on the apartment situation.” He told her this in a whisper tone, not willing to break her out of her half-asleep state. She sighed contentedly.

“..Kay,” she said, already falling back asleep, and just as Tord was walking away, she finished with, “-’Tor..”

He turned around, surprised. But she was already asleep.

The bus hit a rather large bump, making Tord hit himself with the hand he was resting on. Thankfully it was with his flesh hand on his good cheek, so it didn’t hurt too bad.

He didn’t understand why she’d said his name, or mostly his name anyway. He hadn’t been wearing his facemask, which Tomara had stolen from him, so maybe she’d automatically thought it was Tori.

It only bothered him a little bit though, seeing as it was only Matilda.

He was on the bus going west, rather than south where he could have found his army in a couple hours. Instead, he was making a special stop, to a location which he knew would be the last place he could find the blueprints.

The neighborhood was just as he remembered, quaint little houses, each separated by white picketed fences, some housing few annoying dogs that barked as he passed, and stretches of green, freshly mowed grass. It only was a half an hour from the city, where Ell, Matilda and Tomara lived now.

It was a little strange, walking up to the house in the aftermath of what had happened with the house still in such disrepair. Walls were collapsed, and one could hardly tell that, once upon a time, a whole second floor had been renovated. It was maybe slightly better now, where a tree that had fallen over had been taken care of, only a stump remaining, but it was obvious that the property hadn’t been touched much otherwise. There wasn’t even a sign saying that any realtor had claimed it yet.

He felt like he was sifting through the remains of a disaster more than a house. He severely wished he still had his facemask, as a random board falling as he sifted through the totaled home. Smoke rose and filled his lungs, throwing him into a small coughing fit as he choked on the debris.

If he couldn’t go through Tomara’s stuff, he’d thought that he might as well skip her home for the time being. His decision wasn’t proving to be very fruitful, for the hour that he spent in this old neighborhood.

After he stopped coughing, he kicked the fallen post in frustration. He waved away the dust as he forged his way back into open, dirty and severely needing some fresh air. Or, some nice tobacco scented air, he thought as he pulled the cigar out of his pocket.

He still was facing the remains of the house, so he didn’t see it when somebody approached him. “Are those legal?” a very strongly British-accented girl asked from behind him.

He was met with the sight of a little girl, peering up at him curiously with beady black eyes. She was in a wheelchair.

“..No,” he admitted. Then, suspiciously, “You’re not going to call the cops on me, are you?” Whether or not she caught onto his wry humor, she shook her head at him.

“No,” she replied. It was as if she’d just came over to start up a conversation with him, the way a pause followed that statement. Tord took it as an opportunity to inhale some lovely tobacco. Ahh. 

She spoke again. “There’s not much left of it.” Tord nodded. 

Tord would have left her alone, but then she’d said, “I’m not supposed to be here.” Well, that wouldn’t be good, if someone came looking for her and saw her talking to such a suspicious person like him. He thought about taking his leave. “But I wanted to get some fresh air for a bit.”

Okay, she was just going to keep going then. “I just got out of the hospital, you see. And I--...” she took a breath, steeling herself. “-I just wanted to see what was left of it.” Oh, no. This wasn’t who  _ they _ were talking about earlier, was it? “Did you get hurt in the accident too?” It probably was. 

The mentioning of his scars tore his gaze away from the house to really get a look at her. “I didn’t really hear much about anybody else involved in it. It’s too sensitive of a topic, I think,” she explained. 

Tord didn’t want to feel anything for this girl, let alone have to talk to her about the incident. He swallowed the bile that rose to his throat and took another breath, forcing the smoke to pass through his lungs naturally. He felt a little better, watching the smoke lazily moving up into the sky.

Feeling more relaxed, he began to change his mind. 

“Something like that,” he allowed. What if any of his old friends talked to this girl, he wondered. Would they know that he was here? He really should hightail it out of there. Why was he talking to her again?

He hadn’t left the premises right away, which meant that this place held some significance to him. But what?

He felt a bit more than lost when it came to...whatever these feelings were, about this whole place, and not because he was in another world. Maybe he needed this, he thought. The girl remained quiet, as Tord sorted through his thoughts.

“It’s like a cacophony of sound,” he said, gesturing to the home. “All of this.”

“It’s like I’m not in my own body, watching all of this. And when I feel like I am, I just feel frustrated about it. Like, I couldn’t change any of it.” 

All of those emotions, each time he thought deeply about the past or what had happened that day, kept catching up with him and creating all sorts of problems for him. He didn’t want to be affected by it, yet the tie that he thought he cut from his friends when he blasted out of their front lawn and into the sky remained, and continued to pull his at his mind, even as he limped away from the scene.

He didn’t feel remorseful, loyal, or anything about when he first left them, so why did the memories continue to plague him?

He paused, because although he was venting to her, it probably didn’t make any sense to her. He decided to close his thoughts for her, if only to spare her little mind. “I came here for a purpose. But now I’m just getting distracted from it.”

“Why did you come here?” she finally asked. Tord hesitated, because he couldn’t tell her that, but couldn’t immediately come up with some deep excuse. She smiled sadly at him. 

“It’s okay,” she told him. “I came here for closure. But, it’s kind of hard though, when it all looks like this. Like that day never really ended.”

She continued, “but it has ended. And it’s not alright now,” she breathed out, and Tord found himself almost offering her a smoke. He wanted her to continue though. “But...I just want everyone to move on, already. Because, then. Maybe I can move on too.”

“It’s probably stupid. Being here won’t change anything. And Elaina will probably yell at me.” She fiddled with the bottom of her shirt, looking unsure of herself. She shouldn’t be though, Tord thought. 

“It’s not,” he said. She stopped fiddling. “Being here proves that you are stronger than the person that did this to you.” Tord found that he meant it, with a bitter, cruel irony to that statement.

It was true, though. Because he still wasn’t fully here, in his mind. In his mind, he was elsewhere, conquering the world and fulfilling his dreams already. It was the image of eventual victory in his mind that he retreated to, each time he thought about what he’d lost.

He wasn’t strong enough to face his true feelings, just yet. He took another breath of smoke, puffing it out into the air, cold eyes watching as it dissipated with his worried feelings.

The disaster before him was just that. It was a consequence to the path he chose, and he intended to take all of the blame as he rose to the top. He didn’t feel anything for it, he denied, other than the acknowledgement that it was a failed plan.

“You are too,” she said. Tord scrunched his eyebrows at that, but didn’t say anything.

“Jen!!” a voice called in the distance. Tord didn’t watch as she wheeled away, too caught up with himself to care. The voices chattered for a bit, before Jen said something that caused the voices to dim away. 

That left Tord standing in front of the driveway by himself, as he smoked whatever troubles he had with this place away. He’d be content, to just let himself sit in his temporary admission of what his problems were, before he could go back to the city, back to the lies. It probably wouldn’t cure any mental issues he had, with the trauma of the defeat, but at least he could have the comfort of knowing that for a little bit he had.

He didn’t need to be completely sane to be a good, strong ruler. He only needed power and loyalty for that, which with his resources and intelligence he’d already mostly obtained. 

Echoes of the past resonated within him in this place, but he steadfastly ignored them, because still and again, it wasn’t as if he needed friends. He’d use them if they were useful to him, but otherwise, as he repeated to himself, in the nature of closure as ‘Jen’ had spoken about, what would he need them for? 

If he was going to get a giant robot out of them, that was all he needed.

He was already too close to victory to lose now, to any of his petty weaknesses. 

Tord left the broken house behind, along with any doubts that may have existed in his damaged mind.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a shorter chapter than usual. Also, I headcanon Jon to be alive in my stories FITE me.
> 
> As usual, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated~. ((I'm sorry for the long waits, but life's been getting in the way of posting so. Yeah. (happy stuff happening, not sad stuff)))


	9. The Spaghetti

The phone rang once, twice.

There was a click on the other end, “Hello?”

“Sweetums,” he greeted, cringing at his own choice of endearment. Would ‘Sweet Dove’ have been better? ‘Honey Lumps?’ Ugh, maybe he should have stuck with ‘Babe’...

She spoke while he debated with himself, “Oh! Tim! Hi, how are you doing?” 

“I’m doing just fine,” he said. “I checked out the apartment, but,” he readied up, “-I have some bad news.”

“My apartment’s still in the process of being cleared out, so I was wondering if there would be another spot open for me to stay the night.” At her pause, he added, “-At your place.”

“Um,” she hummed. “Yyeah.” She sounded unsure, but repeated, “Yeah! That’s fine.” He hoped her hesitance didn’t have to do with Tomara talking to her about the incident last night, but seeing as she was lending her rooms to him again, he let it go.

“Oh, you’re an angel,” he complimented. She giggled on the other line, encouraging him to ‘go on’. “I think I owe you a proper dinner tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” she drawled.

“My treat,” he insisted. Then he thought connivingly for a moment, and said, “I could cook you something.” He really didn’t want to have to find someplace that topped ‘mirrors’, especially if she remembered his first offer, but also needed to stay at the apartment long enough to be able to search it. Or, to search Tomara’s, somehow.

She was gushing on the other end, “You can cook! That’s so cool, cuz I can’t cook,” she rambled.

“Yes, I know,” he placated. “I will let you know when I’m coming over.”

“Alrighty,” she said. There was some shuffling on the other end, then some distant talking, before something made a ‘thud’ noise on the other end.

“Um, goodbye,” he said hesitantly.

“Bu-bye!” And she hung up. Well, he could worry about whatever that was later, if at all.

He really needed to get back to his apartment. His sticky right eye served as a reminder that it needed to be replenished, contact now moving each time he blinked. In addition to cleaning up, he could research a few things he’d neglected up to that point.

The first thing he noticed about himself was that his right eye had become bloodshot. It definitely didn’t seem healthy for him to keep the contact in for so long, so he gave his eyeball a break, despite having to go out on some errands. Next he checked for any messages from Paul and P-Pauline and Patrycia, but there hadn’t been any.

The errands he needed to run involved clothes, food, and flowers. Clothes, because if he was going to play the part of going on a romantic, home-cooking dinner date, he wanted to do it right. Food for that reason also. Specifically he chose spaghetti, seeing how it was the easiest and didn’t directly point at ‘Tord’ as being the cook. Although, even though he cooked for the four of them before, he wasn’t positive on what would be a ‘Tord’ dish. Maybe he would need to cut back on the salt he used or something.

The flowers would serve as an apology for last night. It seemed safe to assume that he botched up last night’s dinner, combined with their ‘faulty’ security system, and needed to make up for it. He was already set up to freeload at her house again, so it was only fair that he was on his best behavior…

Not that he intended on having to stay another night.

Thankfully, he arrived outside of Matilda’s door without running into anyone who knew about his eye, popping the contact back in, and knocking on the door. He held the flowers at his side, attire changed into a dress shirt and beanie, rather than sweatshirt and baseball cap, waiting patiently for Matilda to answer. He heard a ‘coming’, then footsteps approaching running over to the door.

“Oh, hey!” She greeted. Tord began to up the charm in his smile, but then just above him an ominous ‘whirring’ noise caused him to shirk back. The guns were pointed at him full force, apparently reactivated and ready to fire. “AHH NO NO NO, BAD WEAPONS!!” She hit the wall, causing the weapons to resheath themselves. So, that’s how she disabled them earlier…

Matilda was dressed in pajamas, a stark difference to the fancy attire Tord had went out and bought. She panted, winded from her panicked outburst. She looked at his hands.

“Flowers?” She gasped, holding out her hands for them. He gave them to her, a tentative smile on his face. “Aw, you shouldn’t have!”

“Ah, but I wanted to ap-” his apology was cut off by another gasp from Matilda.

“Oh no!!” She tensed up. She looked at him guiltily with wide eyes, biting her lip. 

“I totally forgot!” she said, as she began to lead him into the apartment. She went into her cupboard, rambling all the while. “We were going to have dinner! But then I...ah, darnit!” She berated herself.

“What is it?” Tord asked, watching as she pulled out a vase and began filling it with water.

“I promised Ell that we were going to have a TV show marathon tonight,” she moaned, placing the vase on the counter with a ‘thunk’, defeated.

“That’s,” perfect, he wanted to say, perfect. “-alright. Do they like spaghetti?” She peered up at him from beneath her bangs, disbelievingly for a second. 

Then, she perked up. “You would do that?” 

“Yes,” he said. “It’s only fair that you can ‘hang out’ with your friends, especially seeing how I’m a guest.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, although she already looked like she was warming up to the idea. 

“I don’t mind,” he promised. This was a golden opportunity for him. When all the girls were all settled and watching the movie, he could slip out unnoticed and sneak into Tomara’s room.

“Oh,” she moaned again. “You’re the best!” She started vibrating on the spot, a sure sign that she was excited.

He held up his groceries, expectantly. “So, when are we...” He didn’t need to finish his question, as he was suddenly being dragged by the arm towards the front door. Apparently, they were doing it now, it seemed.

She plopped the two of them outside Ell’s door, rapping against it in enthusiastic procession. 

“What?” she asked, irritated as she answered the door. She drew the strings to her bathrobe tighter around herself when she spotted Matilda and Tord. “Oh.”

“Hey Ell, I’m here for the movie, can I bring Tom?” she asked in one breath.

“Uh, sure.” Ell said. Tord stood a distance away from the door while she gestured for the pair to follow her. Matilda followed in first, but Tord continued looking at the doorway suspiciously. He waited for the two of them to either disappear around the corner or to notice his hesitance, before taking a step inside.

As expected, the system came to life. Thankfully, Tord was prepared for this, as he whipped out a gun of his own and shot the same spot that Matilda had punched before. The guns pointing directly at him wilted in place, before zipping back into the ceiling.

“What was that?!” Ell ran out to the end of the hallway. Tord looked at his grocery bag, and started to laugh.

“Oh, that?” he laughed, and he quickly walked towards Ell, hoping she would miss the hole in her wall. “I dropped the spaghetti,” he shook the bag containing the box once, the noodles making a much quieter noise than the gunshot had.

Her brows were knit together, “Spaghetti?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m going to cook for you.” He replied, as if that answered her question. He walked past her and into the kitchen where Matilda was already munching on some chips.

“Hey, save those for the movie!” Ell said, marching up from behind Tord and snatching the bag away. She peered into the bag, inspecting its contents.

“I ornly turk like,” she made a fist size, “-thish much.” She smiled wider, spitting some chip flakes out as Ell punched her in the shoulder. Tord stood in the middle of the kitchen, awkwardly holding the plastic bags at his side.

He gestured to the snacks, saying, “This is okay, right?” He held up the bag for Ell to see.

“Oh! No, it’s fine,” she reassured, “It’s better to eat a proper meal, anyways.” She placed the chip bag on the counter again, not before leveling Matilda with a warning stare. Tord snickered at them, then went to place the bags on the counters. 

Matilda retreated from Ell, hopping off the bar stool and walking over to Tord, and began peering over his shoulder. He could feel her staring at his face, causing his mouth to twitch up unintentionally at this. He started to unload the contents of the bags in order to distract her with something else. 

“So, what are you guys watching anyways?” he asked. Matilda made grabby hands at the sauce container, so he handed it to her. She began to read the ingredient label.

“Dr. Who,” Ell replied.  _ What the heck was Dr. Who _ , Tord wondered.  _ Was it like Professor Y? _ “We’re going to watch a bunch of new episodes that came out, so.” Tord nodded. Matilda seemed done with looking at the sauce, so she handed it back to him.

Matilda asked, “Where’s the pots?” Tord sent her an inquiring look that said, ‘I don’t need your help’, but she merely smiled back at him. 

“Under the third counter to the left,” Ell said. Matilda looked into a cupboard that definitely was not where Ell instructed, and Ell sighed and went to get it herself. She placed it on the stove for him, and he sent her a quick ‘thank you.’

“You’re welcome.” It was Ell’s turn to stare at his face, only mere feet away, contemplating something. She shook her head and shot him an unreadable smile, before turning away.

“I’m gonna go change,” she announced. Matilda started to inch towards the counter where the bag of chips sat, which proved to be a mistake when Ell slapped her arm, beratingly. Ell grabbed that same arm, dragging her friend out towards the living room area, saying, “You can help set up the show.” It was a strong suggestion, leaving only room for Matilda to comply, pouting as she was left crouching in front of the TV system.

Everyone was occupied with something, giving Tord some room to cook for a bit. As long as he got the cooking over with at the beginning, he could focus on other more important things later.

He’d gotten the water and the sauces all set up to be heated before he was interrupted again by a knocking at the door. Ell, now dressed in some sleepwear, appeared briefly by the mouth of the kitchen area before going to answer the door.

“Hey-” Tomara’s voice floated through the house, before quickly dying down. There must have been a quiet exchange going on by the front door the moment after, because only a couple murmurs were heard. Tord hoped that was a good sign, even while his suspicions mounted.

“Uh,” Tomara walked into the kitchen, looking a bit timid. She glanced behind her to where Ell was standing with her arms crossed, as if she was being forced to confront him. He rolled his eyes, but turned to her, receptively. Tomara’s hands were stuffed in her pockets, but then she suddenly thrust one out towards him. It was his face mask.

“S’ry,” she mumbled with a pained. Tord took the mask from her, frowning at the white material. He didn’t exactly appreciate it now, since he’d made the hard decision of letting the rest of them see his face already. But he accepted it, because she must have seen some point in trying to apologize to him if she was here now, even if it wasn’t for his sake. He glanced over to Matilda, who’d apparently dropped what she was doing to stare Tomara down. Weird..

“Oh.” Matilda must’ve told them why he wore his facemask. No, it wasn’t as if she was apologizing for her somewhat-correct accusation last night. He excused her by saying, “It’s no big deal. I was...going to have to take it off sometime.”

“Alright,” she quickly conceded. This wasn’t satisfactory to the other two though, as Matilda got up off her knees to join them.

“Hey, no!” she protested. “He was going to take it off in his own time, and you rushed him. And,” she paused, apparently choking up. “I wanted to be the first to see it.” Tord couldn’t help how his face heated at that statement, laughing a bit.

Matilda cried, “It’s not funny!” Ell started to join him in his laughter, lightening a bit at his amusement.

“I’m sorry but,” he choked out, “It’s not as if...she was the first to see everything.” Ell picked up on her laughter, and Tord struggled to reel himself back in. Tomara, Tord noticed, was watching him rather seriously, as was Matilda.

“‘S not fair..” Matilda whined. Tord, chuckles dying down, walked over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She allowed this small comfort, and Tord noticed how easy it would be to just lean over and peck her on the cheek right then. But no, not because his brain told him that it would be taking it too far, but because of the incessant pounding in his chest as he peered up at her face.

Ell stopped for breath, leaning on the far countertop by the doorway, sobering up as well. Tord had to tear his gaze away from Matilda, to instead focus his attention to the host of their party. She was watching them, with a sad sort of smile, prompting Tord to let go of Matilda’s shoulder as if he hadn’t just been thinking about kissing her.

“What’s that?” Tomara asked, redirecting all their thoughts towards the stove. The water was beginning to boil, Tord saw, so he moved to start preparing the noodles.

“Tom’s making us spaghetti,” Ell replied.

“Oh,” she said. “Why’s he doing that?” It wasn’t a hostile question, for once, and Tord thought maybe she was finally warming up to him. Tord wasn’t sure which answer he should give her, about last night or Matilda’s ‘goof-up’, but Matilda saved him from having to answer first.

“We were going to have dinner tonight. But, there was also movie night, so,” Matilda said. “-we’re having both!” It was worded so no one could directly tell that she’d forgotten, but Tomara read inbetween the lines.

“You promised one thing, then another. Didn’t you,” she guessed.

“No! How rude! Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, cuz you always do that?” 

“Guys,” Ell interrupted. “Can’t we just try to be civil with guests in the house?” Tord ignored them, instead pouring the noodles into the hot water, poking them in with a spoon.

“I mean,” Tomara said, “We already tried to shoot him. He obviously wouldn’t still be here if he didn’t want to.” It wasn’t an accusation, Tord reminded himself, just an observation. 

“It doesn’t mean we can’t start trying,” Ell suggested.

“I know,” Matilda chimed. “How we start trying to be nicer to him.” It was directed more at the other two than herself.

“That’s what I literally just said.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Guys,” Tomara broke in. “How about we stop talking like he’s not here then.” That shut down the conversation. Tord finished getting the burger meat ready, then turned to face them as if he hadn’t just been the topic of discussion.

It was like they were waiting for something. “What?” he finally asked. Ell and Matilda looked away, but Tomara kept staring at him. Creepy woman, Tord thought.

“Well, how long until the food’s ready?” Ell asked, and Tord glanced at the simmering pots behind him.

“Hm, about 5 minutes,” he estimated.

“Good. Let’s start get the movie started already.” She lead the way, once again. Matilda grabbed the snacks, bouncing ahead of her. Tomara waited for him to move, although he was planning on watching the food for the next five minutes. 

Once she’d gotten them relatively alone, the other two watching through beginning advertisements, she spoke to him. “Are you really here for Matilda?” she asked.

Wouldn’t his answer to that be obvious? He wasn’t looking to provoke her again. “Yes.”

“...” she weighed what he said, as if he’d given her a paragraph to go over. Tord picked up the spoon to poke at the noodles again, and that’s when she started talking again.

“Alright,” she said, then as if being cryptic, “You clean up nice.” She went out towards the couch, leaving Tord to mull over her reaction. Had she warmed up to him or not? 

Maybe this was a sign that she would be peaceable until proven right about him. He intended to make sure his next plan went smoothly, so that probably wouldn’t happen.

He picked up the pot of noodles, taking it to the sink to drain. He would make it look like he was content where he was, then create an excuse that he needed to leave the room for the moment. Maybe he could use Matilda to get him out, on the pretense of wanting some ‘alone time’.

Only the pretense of it though, gosh, he’d probably just knock her out once they’d gotten out of there.  _ Dumb, overthinking, genius mind _ . He busied himself with trying to find the plates to serve the trio, trying to avert his mind from thinking about his old friends like…

-Like they weren’t his old friends.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated so much~ :> Ye


	10. The Shadow

Tord should have been enjoying the night far more than he had. He had the opportunity of being snuggled up in between three beautiful girls, while watching a movie in the dark under a bundle of blankets. 

Matilda had grabbed hold of his hand at some point during the movie. Ell noticed this from where she sat at Tord’s left, and, as if jealous of their closeness, had placed her hand on top of theirs, shooting Matilda a devious look which she’d returned. Tomara sat on Ell’s other side, continually having to ask Matilda not to hog all the snacks, as that was what Matilda was determined to monopolize, besides Tord’s personal space anyways.

He should have been having the time of his life, not suffocating, having to retreat to the bathroom, and not just as a pretense.

He splashed water on his pale face, staring hard at his reflection, willing his heartbeat to slow down now. They were his old friends, and they’d found him out last time, and they were going to find out again, that he was a fraud--.

If he didn’t return soon, they would find out. He turned off the faucet, leaning over the bowl in exhaustion.

Whatever happened to not feeling anything about these people? Had something changed after he’d returned from the house? It had come into perspective, that the same events had occurred and still affected him, and that these girls hated his counterpart as much as they would him if they found out about him. But that couldn’t really cause him to want to associate his feelings with his old friends to these girls.

It didn’t settle well in him that he continually had to splice his feelings, from feeling nothing to feeling overwhelmed, over and over again, by what these female counterparts were doing to him. This wouldn’t last forever though, he reminded himself, just as the cracking sound of the sink indicated to him that he was about to rip it out of the wall. He let go of it.

He dried his face off and was rolling down his grey sleeves, just about ready to go back out, when his plans were knocked out of the way by something crashing heavily into his side.

It burst through the wall just above the bath tub, plowing through bricks and tile as if it was nothing. Whatever it was, it pushed into him, Tord barely able to cry out as it drove his body through a wall and out into a hallway. Tord raised an arm to prevent the next blast of whatever it was.

It worked, although his metal arm could barely contain these foreign missiles in its magnetic field. Tord had to exert as much force as he could to throwing the projectile back where it came from. As a result, another blast shook the apartment building. 

Looking at the strange light it emitted before it disappeared into the white cloud of debris, Tord squinted, searching for his attackers. Tord didn’t bothering to pulling out his weapons yet, not until he got more information on the situation. Although, he knew only few people who had this kind of technology.

Shadows of three people, Tord could see, stood at the mouth of the hole they’d made in the bathroom wall. Assassins, Tord labeled as he began to access a certain database on his arm. Dammit, he was locked out of it, a disadvantage of being the Red Leader from another world. He would have to hack into it…

If he had the time to, because the three people already had taken their time at recharging their weapons, apparently needing about 10 seconds in between firing. He stored this information away as he dodged the next attack, a ball of green aimed for his head shooting into the next wall. Did they intend to create a large ruckus and get the police involved or to kill him quickly?

They shot at him again, and this time he dove back to his original place, ducking into the opening they’d created, hoping that the smoke would cover for him. Distantly he wondered, as he ran through the random hallways, then backing against a corner wall just as another blast signaled their approach, how Ell, Matilda, and Tomara were reacting to all this. Knowing them, they might pass it off as being the television, Tord having been able to get Ell passing off a gunshot as spaghetti earlier.

He smiled ruefully to himself despite his pounding heartbeat, as he managed to get access to a number of codes linking to certain implants required by some Red Army personal. He’d gotten a reading on two of them, a gps popping up and giving him access to their names, but the third remained untraceable. He could see two of them approaching from one side, and he debated confronting them or running off blind despite the third.

He could take them, he told himself, and charged at them. The two’s positions were at the end of the hallway he’d come from, both of them armed. One of them fired, a green blast shooting down the middle of the hallway, predictably, which Tord dodged and reciprocated with a shot of his handgun. He injured them, as they doubled over from the shot to the abdomen.

He shot for the other, but their plasma shot was returned at the same time, and Tord had to fall over to prevent getting hit by it. As his back hit the floor, he immediately resumed shooting at his attacker, who also returned with shots of their own.

Tord had developed long ago, after being inspired by the mechanics of the videogames he and Edd would play, an armor that could read off its ‘hit-points’. It was very similar to the shields that they would use for their battleships, except that this invisible field would be usable on a human persons. It needed to be flexible, for the size of the person and for range of movement, and it needed to not hurt the person it was defending. It hadn’t been overly difficult to make, just needing the calibration of the specific person it was defending and a way for it to be read without interfering with the line of sight or immediate focus of the user.

Right in this moment, his ‘hp’ was draining quite rapidly, and he didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that the untraceable person, or persons, were behind him. The person in front of him was doing a number also, but he finally managed to get them down.

He got up and turned around, anger on his face solidifying as he spotted the face of his attacker. He poised his gun to fire, but was interrupted by another blast to the wall. The hole was made just beside his attackers, and instead of a person rushing out into the smoke, Tord glimpsed something much different.

A large, dark shadow passed through the smoke, before all line of sight was lost, of both his attackers and his...savior? Tord charged through the rolling clouds, turning in time to witness the end of the battle.

Tomara stood over his attacker, not at all matching what must had been a trick of the light when something had charged into them a second ago. She stepped over them, turning fully to him, lips tight and posture tall as she stood amongst the wreckage. Tord was gaping at her, but quit doing so after becoming aware of her steady gaze on him. Tord wondered whether or not the battle was over.

“What was…?” Tord trailed off, unsure how to word what he thought he saw other than a vague ‘that’. Tomara’s eyes flickered down, then up, mulling over her response.

“I don’t know. I-...” She lost a bit of the strong gait she held. Odd, did she have an idea of what that attack had been about? She wasn’t acting hostile about it though…

“Why don’t we talk,” Tord suggested. “Somewhere quieter.” For now, it was rather quiet in the hallways, except for the sounds of bits and pieces of walls still crumbling. She got the hint though, as this peace would not remain for long before reports would alert the police, and nodded.

And so, just as quickly as the battle started, it ended. Tord knew it had probably started from his own people, hungry for power and, aware of his location, taking the opportunity to take him alone. He could make guesses as to their exact motivations, seeing as a couple of them were newer recruits and therefore novices to bending over to his authority. Tord couldn’t bring himself to care enough though, seeing how this wasn’t his world, and so didn’t bother to try and get information from them.

He didn’t spare one of the persons, who he’d once personally known as ‘Gena’, more than a glance, before turning towards their exit. He would collect the guns at a later time, making note of their designs.

Tomara passed him, sniffing at the unique stench of totalled apartment buildings, or so he supposed, and he followed behind her, slipping his gun away in his pocket. He went to the control panel in his arm, and, after terminating the implanted id’s, which would literally burn the data out of their bodies, he left a ‘sorry, not sorry’ note to the HQ for busting into their security before rescinding his control. Tomara mostly kept to herself as they walked, apparently wanting to get to her room as quickly as possible in her brisk pace.

Tord had many questions for her, even more with the development of this battle. And he hoped, with their destination, all of his searches for answers would come to a close. 

A seed of hope planted itself in his chest at this. He wouldn’t need to worry anymore, about what his friends thought of him or how he behaved around them if this worked. The battle had renewed his spirits, most all traces of anxiety had been vented away, leaving him feeling refreshed and ready for this next encounter.

If his emotions showed through the calculating glint of his working eye, Tomara didn’t comment on it, as her own were stubbornly fixated ahead.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, hehe. Its been a fun ride~ Hope ya'll enjoyed reading up to this point! 
> 
> ((The sequel is...going more slowly, for some reason. Hm ^^;;;)


	11. The Final Battle

Tord watched her stiffened posture from behind, a contrast to how she’d initially behaved after emerging from the fight, confident and naturally used to confrontations, and the way she looked left and right down each cross roading hallway. If she wanted to be paranoid, he decided he could let her, seeing as it wasn’t slowing them down too much.

She stopped in front of her room, and Tord managed to punch the wall before the weapons could emerge due to their hasty entrance. She jumped at the noise, whipping her head around to level him with a glare, which, as much as this amused him, he tried to feign innocence to. She shook her head disbelievingly as she continued moving into the home.

Tord couldn’t believe his luck right now, and was struggling to take in all of the places he’d need to search before his visit was done. He didn’t have much time to marvel before he was dragged down a certain hallway, leading to what must have been her bedroom. Maybe he could temporarily distract her with a phone call or something, he thought.

Her room already had many things of importance in it. Just laying out in the open was ‘Susan’, her electric bass guitar, propped up against her bed, a roll of tape laying beside it. Her computer was sitting on a desk with multiple drawers, and assumably music sheets covered the rest of the surface. Although, there was a drawing visible from where it was sticking out from the pile, and Tord’s hands itched to get a better look at it. He paused, however, hearing Tomara’s pacing cease, and turned his attention to her.

In this lighting, the bags under Tomara’s eyes almost matched the blue painted walls with their bruised shade, making her fatigue even more evident. She was looking at him, still looking wound up with both a pinch in her brow and an ever enduring frown on her face. His attention was on her, but apparently she felt like she needed to be drunk for this conversation, because she reached for the mislabeled Smirnoff, ‘Smirniff’, popping the cap off and taking a swig. How rude.

He settled for standing while she sat down on her bed, crossing his arms and waiting for one of them to broach the subject.

“So,” he began, brushing off a bit of the debris from his hair and onto Tomara’s floor. Huh, apparently his hat had fallen off during the fight. “That was pretty exciting.” She finished another gulp, before resting it against her thigh.

“You don’t freak out easily,” she guessed. “-do you.” He shrugged at the implied question, taking her statement as an opt to not answer.

“Do you know what that was?” he asked, to the point. She apparently didn’t like his directness, and took another drink.

“Hm, yeah,” she said. Tord waited for her to go on, but she didn’t, irritating him a little.

“But you’re not going to tell me?” he guessed, and she took a drink as a response. “Well, this is going to get us nowhere.”

She held a finger up, for ‘one moment’, so she could swallow her Smirniff. “Got any guesses?” From the way she asked, it sounded as though she thought that she was the one with information to conceal from him, rather than vice versa. Interesting…

“Well,” he thought back to the events, and mentioned, “There was a pretty large shadow that took down the last of the guys. But then-.” He gestured to her, referencing her sudden appearance. She nodded again, a disappointed frown on her face.

“Alright,” she conceded, to what it was unknown. “I’m just going to go check up on Ell and Matilda. I’ll be right back.” Well, that was rather abrupt, Tord thought to himself. Apparently she’d gotten what she wanted to know already, as she was already standing up to leave. Was she leaving him in here by himself?

The door closing behind her told him, yes, she was trusting him to stay in her room for the time being. This was...very good.

His eyes lit up as he took in the contents of the room, already moving to the thing that had caught his eye lastly. The drawing.

It was most obviously Edd’s, even though it was a pretty old, poorly drawn, stick figure. He turned it over to view the back of the page…

Tomara came back in, interrupting whatever musings he had on his find. He glanced behind him to see her smoothly shutting the door behind her while she faced him.

_ Why did Tomara have this drawing, _ Tord wondered, a foreboding feeling growing in his gut. It was obviously Edd’s, but to have it in her possession, along with what was on the back of it, it was far too important to be a coincidence. Loosely taped to the back and obviously unfolded, its contents open for the world to see, were the blueprints he was looking for. The Blueprints.

Tomara was hiding something behind her back, and Tord couldn’t be sure if she was aware of what he had in his hands or not.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, noticing his drawn back demeanor. He sneered at her.

“What’s this?” He showed her the blueprints that he’d found. She gasped, dropping her hands to her sides, revealing that she’d had the memory eraser gun in her hand.

“How did you--?” she asked, before her thoughts caught up to her. “You.”

“Why do you have this?” His voice was level, cold. He felt himself coiling up for another battle.

“It shouldn’t matter to you,” she remarked, before spitting out his fake name. “ _ Tom _ .”

His cover didn’t matter anymore, and answers were becoming a higher priority. “It’s Tord, actually,” he said. 

Then commandingly, “Now, tell me.” She flinched a bit at his sharp tone, but he wasn’t concerning himself with having her like him anymore.

“A friend gave it to me,” she said, stubbornly not giving him a straight answer. Tord tried thinking of why Ell would give it to her, because there wasn’t anyone else involved that could’ve known.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, stuffing the plans in his pockets and pacing from the desk towards the window, in turn showing his blind side to her. When she didn’t immediately attack him, he knew he had her attention. 

He kept talking. “I’m from another dimension, one where this world parallels the actions that this one takes. The only difference between them being the different genders,” he explained, and began typing out a message on his mechanical arm. There was a rattling sound coming from behind him before it stilled, and Tomara spoke.

“Why are you…?” She couldn’t quite decide what to ask first, it seemed, before she finished, “-lying to us. Again.” At hearing her defeated tone, he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face.

It was a loaded question, one that Tomara should have already known the answer to. He wanted the Blueprints, and this was the easiest way to get them. Besides outright attacking the trio, anyway. Unless she was referring to any obligations he had with his past friendship with them, which he hated thinking about.

“It should be clear, already.” He snipped, letting her figure it out on her own. “I am curious as to what you were going to do with that,” he said, half-turning to look at the device in her hand. The rattling had apparently been from her hands shaking, and the noise resumed once more.

Her face was hard as she said. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her voice had an odd, manly grumble to it, although she’d just been drinking, not smoking. He shrugged, indifferently, resolving himself to look into his own Tom’s secrets later, if need be, and turned around again to face the window.

His shield let him know that it’s resistance had gone to critical. He turned around to gloat, revelling in the way Tomara’s face went from shocked to enraged at not being able to shoot him. 

The memory eraser gun was pointed right for him, however the trembling in her hand had gotten so bad that she was forced to drop it to the ground. It clattered on the hardwood below and Tomara stumbled back a pace, staring at the creature that was Tord. He crossed his arms, red metal exposed up to the forearms, as his dress shirt sleeves had been rolled up from when he was in the washroom. 

He reveled in how easy this was proving to be so far. It was so much easier now to play the part of the ‘wolf’ when the sheep’s clothing had been removed, and the pattering in his chest could finally be passed of as adrenaline. His delight only grew when Tomara’s emotion-struck face settled on anger, which then turned to rage as her whole demeanor changed.

In fact, her whole form was beginning to change before his eyes. A wind passed through the room, although the window was currently closed, accompanying the fact that the room temperature had sharply dropped. Tord could feel himself sweating, despite this, watching fascinated as Tomara was engulfed by the shadows, her form growing larger and larger until she had horns touching the ceiling.

Every muscle in its body looked buffed up, ready for a fight. The steady, purple glow that had once came from Tomara’s eyes now burned from this monster’s cyclops eye. Its toothy, dripping mouth was dripping wide open, before it gave a loud roar, throwing Tord into action or else becoming paralyzed.

He first tried bullets, pulling out his second, already loaded pistol out of his belt’s back loop. They proved futile, as they passed through the monster’s skin, like bullets flying through smoke. The patch of smoke in the monster’s middle expanded, until mass of smoke swallowed itself whole. It passed by him in a gust of darkness.

Tord could feel a hot breath hitting the back of his neck, and at the same time he saw that he’d suddenly lost his shield. He rolled away, not willing to be hit by the teeth that snapped where his body had just been standing, and darted out of the room.

This thing was dangerous, strong, and fast. Tord could hear the frustrated growl left behind him as he ran, before it came darting at him. He skidded around the corner, not caring where he was at this point, but needing to gain something as an advantage point.

As severely unequipped he was for this encounter, he wished to see it through to the end. He found himself where their previous battle had occurred, not paying mind to the police officers that called out to him as he ran past, and dove for the plasma gun that Gena had left behind. He didn’t pity the officers when their attention was broken from him as a large monster barreled through them, engulfing a few of them in its path.

Tord shot the monster with his gun, joining the one officer that had the guts and brains to do so, and immediately peeled out of there just as it slammed the brave cop, its attention rebrought onto him. Three stories, Tord thought to himself as he ran his way towards the fire escape.

Having a large monster on his tail, Tord didn’t hesitate to throw himself out the exit, plasma gun shooting the dark form close behind. The plasma shot seemed to throw the monster off guard, to Tord’s surprise, hesitating just before Tord’s line of sight was lost by his rapid descent through the air.

He used his metal arm to catch himself on the lowest fire escape railing, his body slamming against some poles while his feet dangled in the air. He could hear something rip from over the pounding in his ears, probably his cheap shirt and its tight sleeve clinging to his metal arm, and he let go. The few feet jarred him a bit, before he started running again. 

He didn’t look behind himself as he ran and made it across the street before he heard another beastly growl.

Turning to face it, he had little doubt that it would try to charge him despite there being a lot of traffic. This monster seemed to have a goal in mind, and that goal was to wipe his face on the pavement, as Tord could see the ghastly pink glow in its eye trained on him from across the way.

Tord bunched his metal hand into a fist. Just as he predicted, the shadowy mass came flying towards him, inky black stretching itself, eager to make the first hit. He took his fully charged plasma gun and held the trigger, letting the plasma ball form and remain stationary in front of him. The black mass passed through cars like they were nothing, however much of the traffic stuttering at the sudden intrusion.

A second before it hit him, he gripped the glowing green projectile in hand and thrust it towards the shadows that were currently trying to engulf him. He redirected this thrust for the inky splotch that remained on the ground, hoping to drive the monster’s airy form into the ground. There was an explosion as a result of this, bits of pavement rushing past him, temporarily blinding him.

A few rapid heartbeats later, Tord was still standing, eyes beginning to open again, dirt clearing up a bit. He was panting heavily. His left hand was clear of the plasma gun that must have blown away with the force of the explosion, and he severely hoped he wouldn’t need it again, now being drawn to grip his metal hand self-assuredly.

Tord could still see the black smoke rolling around his feet and it was making him uneasy. He might’ve been able to make out the form of a person lying just a few feet away from him, if not for that inky smoke rising and falling, as if unsure where to go. It finally receded, drawing towards the ground, perhaps back into the person who Tord was finally able to identify as being Tomara, and disappeared. All that remained was dust.

“Tamara!” Someone yelled from across the street. It was Ell and Matilda, still dressed in their PJ’s, probably having left on short notice due to the police arrival, although Tord hadn’t cared enough to notice them during the fight.

“Tom?” Matilda called. The two of them were running towards them, and Tord started to back away. Where was that ride he called for? Ell crouched down to inspect Tomara’s prone body, floundering as she couldn’t see any wounds. Tord felt a stinging sensation on his cheek, and pressed his hand to it only to draw back blood. Matilda was also crouched by Tomara, but feeling unuseful there, stood back up to approach him.

“If anyone asks,” she said to him, while Ell rolled her eyes below. “-I didn’t see any monster.” She said this with utmost seriousness, and Tord felt he was missing the piece to an inside joke.

“...Alright?” He inspected his arm, looking for anymore messages back from Pauline and Patrycia. Still, nothing.

“Oh no!” she gasped. “Your face..” Matilda was apparently mourning for him, and he shook his head at her, growing tired of her antics.

“Don’t be concerned,” he told her, knowing that it wouldn’t last as soon as Tomara woke up. 

In fact, he’d better end it right here. “You know, all of this excitement is getting to me. I think we should break up.” It seemed like a good enough excuse. Matilda’s face was blank, processing, for a moment.

“I’m not the monster!” She was still defending herself. “I swear!!”

“No,” Tord reassured. “I am.” He grinned as he saw a confused look growing on Matilda’s face. He saw Ell stand up from behind her. 

He didn’t know why he said it, other than to throw them off, maybe for the sake of cryptic irony, but he was relishing the confused looks on their faces. It was refreshing, being the one on the other end of the emotional abuse. As if remembering something, he looking at his right arm, noticing that the rest of the dress shirt sleeve had been torn off during the fight. This was for the best, Tord thought to himself, flexing the false hand.

“What?” Ell was apparently buying his lie. It had been about 15 minutes since he messaged his colleagues, so they should be arriving in 10 more, maybe less if they were quick about it. He swallowed, hoping that they’d arrive sooner.

“Yes, it’s true,” he continued, shrugging and closing his eyes. “I was the one that brought on the monster’s appearance. Although,” he opened his eyes to see that he had their full attention. “-I’m not the only monster. If you really want to know about it though, I suggest you ask Tomara.” He gestured to the unconscious girl, and Ell stepped in front of her, protectively.

“You know, you’ve always said Tamara’s name kinda funny,” Matilda mentioned randomly.

Ell ignored her, saying, “You did this to her.” She said this disbelievingly, and Tord had to nod his head to confirm her suspicions.

“Yes. But, in my defense, she attacked me first.” Tord thought about making his retreat early on, seeing as things were beginning to get uncomfortably peaceful. Ell looked down at Tomara’s face, thinking for a moment.

“Just who are you..?” she finally asked, her eyes lifting to his warily. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to escape on his own, because, to his surprise, a car horn beeped for him, Pauline’s face peeking out from the driver’s window. 

Tord looked at the two girls one last time, finally able to show off his crooked smile when he said, “Goodbye, old friends.” He didn’t watch for any more reactions, jogging away from the two of them, the back door opening for him, enabling him to get in and shut the door just as it began to drive away. He put a hand to his pant pockets, checking to make sure the paper was still in its place, a relief flooding him as he fell back onto the leather seats.

This time, he’d won. His mouth was dry, but the back of his throat was wet, so he swallowed at this uncomfortable revelation. It was all over.

Pauline remarked, watching him from the rear mirror, “You look pretty wrecked,” He ran a hand through the front of his mussed hair, registering still, that he’d won.

And Patrycia, “Everything go okay, Sir?” Tord felt like he was laying on a cloud. He should be elated, ecstatic at having finally duped his friends. He was on his way back to the Red Army, and things would finally go back to what Tord felt was normal. He nodded in response to Patricia’s question.

“Yes.” It was ‘okay’, how the mission had gone, Tord accepted, letting the event pass over him once more. He gained what he needed and a bit more, especially information-wise.

Ell and Matilda were standing amongst the wreckage, left to pick up the pieces that Tord had left behind. In addition to the police, which they could never really answer to them straight as to what had happened and were therefore were stuck talking to them for much longer than they needed to, they were also forced to deal with yet another home broken, left in disarray both inside and out. 

Honestly, they should’ve been used to it by now. Tord would have felt though, if his mind wasn’t jumbled with mixed victory, that they shouldn’t have to be. This was all for the future where they wouldn’t have to live in fear. But why did he end up having to subject them to his battles over and over?

Thoughts clearing, as he stared out the window at the city he was leaving behind, he wondered how could he have won if he felt like he’d lost something very important. Patrycia and Pauline left him alone to his thoughts for a while, as they drove to the countryside and towards the skeleton where they’d have Tori apply her genius to their battle mech. It was what Tord wanted, after all.

  
  


\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'd kinda forgotten I hadn't posted this yet, hahaaa)...
> 
> THANK YA'LL SO MUCH!! It's been a fun ride~. There may be a sequel one day. Hopefully, cuz there's a little more that I had in store...Anywho, thanks for all the Kudos and Comments!


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